


Out of the Darkness

by TanyaReed



Category: Leverage
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Physical Disability
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-08-10 10:07:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 30,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7840594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TanyaReed/pseuds/TanyaReed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a con goes wrong, Sophie is left without her sight.  Eliot feels responsible and, because Nate is drinking too heavily to help, takes Sophie into his home to help her learn to live again. (Takes place during season 3.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks go to lots of people for this one: gwenhwyfar1984, hughville, honerat, and jesterlady. Thank you all so much for your help!
> 
> Also, check out the amazing cover art made by azarsuerte. I absolutely love it! You can check out the full size version and the rest of her wonderful art for my fic here: [Wonderful art](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7880401). Thanks, azarsuerte, so much for making these for me!

Sophie woke alone in the dark.  She knew she was alone because the room felt empty, and the only sound was a soft, rhythmic beeping.  The darkness was so deep that she doubted there were windows, and her stomach clenched slightly.  Where was she? 

Her body ached, and there was a stabbing pain in her head.  She knew there was something she should remember, but everything after their last team meeting was a blank.  Searching her memory made her head hurt worse, so she stopped trying to figure out what had happened. 

"Nate?" she whispered.  Her voice cracked on the word, and she started to cough.  When she brought her hand up to cover her mouth, something softly ghosted over her skin, and she realized it was connected to her arm.  The clenching in her stomach became real fear as she used her other hand to investigate.  What appeared to be tubes or wires crossed her body, connected in various places.

"Nate?"  she said again.  "Say something.  Somebody please say something." 

Nobody answered.  She had to get out of there.  Somehow.  

Sophie shifted to explore whatever held her.  There was a mattress beneath her, and her elbow connected with hard plastic on one side.  Frowning, she ran her fingers over it, discovering it was some sort of bed rail.  She noticed a faint scent to the air, one of antiseptic and sickness and realized she wasn't being held in someone's windowless basement.  She was in a hospital bed. Obviously, something had gone really wrong. 

Reaching up to brush her ear, she discovered her bud was gone. She also encountered a sore spot that made her wince.  It felt like a scrape. 

Clearing her throat, which was still too dry, Sophie called, "Is anybody there?" 

There was no answer to her call, and she wondered why she was alone in the dark.  Sophie didn't like the dark.  There were too many things that could be lurking in it, and people were hard to read. It made her feel vulnerable.  How could you tell what someone's deepest desire was if you couldn't see his eyes?

When she heard the door open, she was tense and wary. 

"You're awake?" a voice asked.  It was a perfectly pleasant male voice. 

"Are you a doctor?" she asked.  "Why are you keeping me in the dark?" 

"I'm Doctor Thatcher.  Do you remember why you're here?" 

Once more, Sophie searched her memory.  It didn't hurt as much, but her mind was still blank.  "No.  I'm sorry." 

"There was an explosion." 

"An explosion?"  That was something she definitely should have been able to remember.  "Is that why I'm in the dark?" 

There was a weighted pause, one that made goosebumps prickle on her skin. 

"Doctor?" 

"I'm sorry, Sophie." 

"Sorry for what?" 

He started explaining something to her in technical terms that her muddled mind didn't quite understand.  She tried to listen carefully, but her thoughts wandered, even though she knew what he was saying was important.  As he began to wind down, she grasped onto something and held on.  With growing horror, it dawned on her what his whole long winded speech was saying. 

"Do you mean...?" 

"That you were in a terrible explosion, and somehow you survived.  Miraculously, you came away with only scrapes, bruises, minor burns, and a few stitches..." 

"But without my sight," she said tightly. 

"But without your sight," he agreed.  "This will be a difficult adjustment; you will have to learn to live a whole new way, but you will live." 

Sophie absorbed this quietly, wondering if it would be worth living in a world of perpetual darkness.  The thought was terrifying.  The magnitude of what that would mean was so overwhelming that she pushed the thoughts away.  Forcing all of her fear into the back of her mind, she asked, "How long have I been here?"

"Four days.  You've been in and out of consciousness since then, and this is the first time you've been lucid."

A sudden thought turned her blood to ice, and her chest felt tight.  "Was anyone else hurt in the explosion?"

"You were alone in the building.  Your brother wanted me to assure you of that."

"My brother?"  She turned her face towards him, puzzled.

"He's been here every day with your sister and her husband."

Sophie felt tension she hadn't even been aware of drain from her body.  "Are they here now?"

"Let me do a quick examination, and then I'll go check."

She nodded and meekly waited while he checked her vitals and poked and prodded her.  When he was finished, he said, "Everything looks fine."

"I wouldn't know," she replied softly.

There was a brief touch on her shoulder.  "You'll figure this out.  Trust yourself."

"I'll try."

"I'll go see if your family is here."

"Do they know...?"

"They've been kept informed."

At least she didn't have to tell them.

When the doctor left the room, Sophie took several deep, calming breaths to prepare herself.  She wanted to show a positive face to the others.  Three others.  Was Nate the one missing?

"Sophie!" Parker announced her presence loudly.  "You're awake." 

"Yes, Parker.  I'm awake." 

"You're not going to say anything crazy, are you?" 

"Crazy?" 

"The last time we were here, you were pretty heavily medicated," Eliot told her.  His gruff voice was softer than usual, and she could hear his concern. 

"I don't remember." 

"I'm not surprised." 

"How do you feel?"  Parker suddenly sounded very close, and her breath brushed across Sophie's face.  The younger woman had been chewing gum, and the scent was sharp and minty. 

"How do I look?" 

"Bad." 

"Parker!" Eliot snapped. 

Sophie laughed softly, grateful that Parker was her normal tactless, honest self.

"Well, she's got cuts and scrapes on her face, and her hair is messy." 

Sophie felt her good humour fade.  "What happened?" 

"We screwed up," Hardison said.  "Pure and simple." 

"How?  What did we do wrong?" 

"You don't remember?"  This was Eliot. 

"Nothing after the briefing." 

"I thought you'd died again."  Parker settled beside her on the bed.  "For good this time."

"When I found out he'd rigged the building to blow, I was too far away to get to you in time," Eliot said tightly.

"We warned you just a little too late."  Hardison was subdued.  "You didn't get out fast enough.  We should have been faster."

"You're blaming yourselves?  We all know the risks."

"It's my job to take the hits," Eliot growled.  "No excuses."

"This isn't your fault."  When he didn't respond, she added, "Eliot."

She could feel his glare.

"Are you going to be able to come on jobs with us now?"  Parker asked suddenly.

"I don't think so, Parker."

"But you're going to be okay, right?"

Sophie wasn't sure about that so she lied.  "I'm going to be fine."

"But you can't see."

Hearing the words come out of Parker's mouth so starkly brought the reality crashing down.  Sophie felt her chest tighten and panic start to claw at her throat.  This darkness was her new normal.  Every day, she was going to wake up to it, and every night she'd go to sleep with it.  Continuous.  Unrelenting.  Only a lifetime of practice allowed her to keep these thoughts from her face, but her breath became short and her forehead became damp.

"Parker."  Eliot spoke her name as a warning.

"It's true."

"Yes," Sophie forced out, "it's true."

Hardison had been uncharacteristically quiet through the whole visit, and she wished she could see his expression most of all.  He was sensitive and took things to heart more than the others.  Sophie swallowed down her panic to feel in private because she didn't want to add to anyone's guilt, especially his.

"And I can always call you when I need help not stabbing somebody, right?" Parker continued.

"You can always call me," Sophie assured her. 

"Okay, guys, that's enough," Eliot said firmly.  "Sophie just woke up.  She doesn't need any more chatter.  Let's let her have some time to herself." 

The mattress shifted as Parker stood up.  "The doctor said if you do well on your tests you can come home tomorrow." 

"Did he?" 

"Yup. Bye, Sophie." 

Sophie almost had to bite her tongue to keep from asking about Nate.  "Bye, Parker." 

There was a large, warm hand on her arm briefly.  Hardison mumbled, "I'm sorry.  I shoulda known." 

He moved away before she could answer.  Footsteps went across the room, but she could still feel someone there with her. 

"Eliot?" 

"I'll be back to get you." 

"And do what with me?"  She had a sudden flash of her sitting in her living room afraid to move. 

"Don't worry about it." 

He left without saying another word.  Sophie sat there after he'd gone, doing exactly what he'd told her not to do.

XXX

“You guys are late,” Nate said when the three of them filed into the room. Eliot's nerves were raw, and he had to clench his jaw to keep from snapping back.

“We were visiting Sophie,” Parker told him, oblivious to the flash of anger that went over Nate's face.

As Eliot joined Parker at the table, he studied Nate. Nate's face was flushed and bloated, his eyes red rimmed and bruised looking. Since Sophie's accident, he'd been drinking more heavily than usual, and anger had been constantly simmering in his eyes. He'd ordered them not to talk about Sophie, but, so far, none of them had listened.

“Hardison, did you at least look up the information I asked for?”

“Sure.” Hardison eyed him warily as he moved across the room.

“So, why don't we get on with the briefing?”

“Maybe we should do this tomorrow,” Eliot suggested, though he knew chances were Nate would be no better the next day.

“Why? Why is that, Eliot?”

Eliot considered confronting him but found he didn't have the strength, so he just looked away.

“Okay.” Nate clapped his hands. “Diamondback Industries. Do your thing, Hardison.”

“This doesn't feel right without Sophie,” Parker complained.

“We've worked without Sophie before.” The answer was short and tight.

“I didn't like it then, either.”

“Sophie won't be back. Adapt, Parker.”

“Like you're adapting,” Eliot ground out.

“If you don't like the...”

“Is anybody going to listen to this thing?” Hardison broke in. “If not, I'm going home.”

Nate glared at Eliot and waved his hand. “Go ahead, Hardison.”

In the minutes that followed, Eliot paid more attention to Nate than he did to Hardison. The man was falling apart at the seams, and Eliot was waiting for pieces of him to go flying everywhere. He hoped it wouldn't be in the middle of a job. At one time, he would have said it was self-interest that made him worry, but not anymore. The fact was, he cared about Sophie and he cared about Nate, and he couldn't see how any of this could turn out well. Guilt twisted his guts because he'd been too late. He should have been the one in that hospital bed. No matter what Sophie said, the explosion and its consequences rested right there on his shoulders.

XXX

Nate Ford sat at his kitchen table staring into a glass of Scotch. He'd downed so many before it that he'd lost track, but now a lump too big to swallow had settled in his throat, and he was left temporarily helpless to do anything but contemplate the glass.

No matter how much alcohol passed his lips, he couldn't seem to drown out the sound of Hardison yelling frantically for Sophie to get out of the building. He remembered yelling himself, her name over and over, willing her to answer after the blast so loud it was almost deafening. He heard it when he was awake; he heard it when he was asleep. It didn't matter how drunk he got, it never went away.

He hadn't been in to see her. It would be more than he could bear to see what his screw up had done to her. She'd warned him over and over that someday he'd get someone hurt, and he'd laughed in her face. He wasn't laughing now.

He wasn't even drinking.

Nate scowled and picked up the glass. Angrily, he threw it against the wall. The noise as it shattered seemed to get inside him, piercing his chest to the heart.

Loving him was a curse. When people loved him, they got hurt, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do to prevent it. Sam. Maggie. Sophie. 

Guilt wasn't a new feeling for him, but that didn't make it hurt any less. How could he face Sophie knowing how terribly he'd failed her? She deserved better than the life he'd given her over the past three years. Better than the explosion. Better than him. They all deserved better than him.

Nate wasn't much of a crier, not even when he was drunk, but he felt tears start to fall down his cheeks as he stumbled to the stairs. The lump in his throat had grown so large it seemed to be strangling him. He wasn't even sure he could make it up to his bed to sleep everything off. It was more likely he'd trip and fall down the stairs. Maybe he'd be lucky and break his neck.

They'd all be better off.

XXX

Eliot stood in Sophie's apartment for the first time. Her scent subtly surrounded him, and it seemed as if, at any moment, she would come around a corner and find him there.

It was clean and super modern, as he'd expected, with priceless artwork on the walls and a kitchen that showed almost no signs of wear.

The rooms reflected Sophie's sophisticated and elegant beauty. Understated but in a way that was more effective than any flaunting of wealth. He could see her there surrounded by all that elegance, and it made him sad to know it would all have to change.

Eliot placed the things in his hand on her coffee table—antique and probably worth enough to put a kid through med school—so he could go to her bedroom and get to work.

He paused and looked down, swallowing hard at the contrast of her new life verses her old. Doctor Thatcher had sent Eliot to the Massachusetts Commission for the Blind. They'd given him a White Cane—temporarily until she could be measured for a permanent one—and information on their independent living services and rehabilitation therapy. They'd also given him a bunch of brochures. It was all pretty overwhelming.

Turning away, he wondered if he'd made the right decision. He hadn't told Sophie, but with Nate unable to even hear her name and no clue about her family or friends—except Tara, whom he didn't trust—Eliot had been the one to sign the papers for Sophie's release. Since he was on record as her brother, it had been easy to accept the responsibility of caregiver until Sophie could live on her own. He'd done this for several reasons, the least of which was the lack of options. The fact that he was at fault weighed heavily into the decision; he always paid his debts. Besides, this was Sophie, and he'd do a lot more than take her into his home to keep her safe if she needed him. With this firmly in mind, he shrugged off his doubts and started down the hallway to do what needed to be done.

XXX

Sophie couldn't believe how fast her life had changed. One minute, she was sitting in one of Hardison's briefings, wishing she'd remembered to make coffee, and, the next, she was sitting anxiously on a hospital bed wondering how she was ever going to survive on her own. Her family wasn't an option. There was no way she would go to them and beg for help; she'd rather die first.

Since Doctor Thatcher had mentioned that her brother was coming to get her, she assumed Eliot was keeping his promise. She had no idea what would happen after that. She could hire someone to come stay with her, she supposed, but the thought of a stranger in her space when she was so vulnerable made her skin crawl. It was going to be hard enough interacting with the people she knew.

The door opened and someone came in. Sophie realized she recognized the way he walked and the way he smelled. She suddenly didn't feel quite so helpless.

“Hello, Eliot.”

“Hey, you ready?”

She wondered if he'd take no for an answer.

“I don't know. Are my clothes on backwards?” She meant that as a joke. The nurse had helped her dress and announced her 'pretty as a picture'. Considering the pictures Sophie was used to working with, she highly doubted it.

“You look fine.”

That was considerably less than 'pretty as a picture', but she'd take it.

“Okay, take me home.” She got to her feet and suddenly felt lost.

“Yeah, about that. You're coming home with me.”

“What?”

“Did you think I was going to drop you off at your apartment and drive away?”

“To be honest, yes.”

“Well, you thought wrong. You can come stay with me until you can make it on your own.”

“I can't...”

“Don't argue with me, Soph.”

If she hadn't felt so lost, she might have continued to protest. For today, she wanted to be taken care of. She'd worry about being a burden later.

“I've got a wheelchair waiting outside the door. Hospital policy. We'll get you down to the car, and then we'll go from there.”

Sophie thought of his car and sighed.

“What is it?”

“Now I'll never get to drive it.”

He was silent for a minute, and Sophie wondered what he was thinking.

“Tell you what,” he said eventually. “Once you learn to go to the store and buy something all by yourself, I'll let you drive.”

She laughed.

“I'm serious. We'll head out of town and rent a field. I know a guy.”

“You're really serious?”

“I give you my word.”

Sophie swallowed a sudden lump in her throat. “Let's get out of here.”

His hand was suddenly on her elbow, and he guided her to the door. He was warm and solid against her, anchoring her to a world that had seemed so far away just a minute before.

“Don't let go,” she said suddenly.

His hand tightened. “I'm here as long as you need me.”


	2. Chapter 2

They were both quiet on the way to Eliot's apartment. Sophie sat with her hands in her lap and her muscles tense. Her body felt numb, but her mind raced. There were many things fighting for dominance in her thoughts, but the two main ones were how she was going to deal with her blindness and Nate.

Nate still hadn't made any efforts to contact her. There'd been no visits, no cards or flowers, not even any mentions of him from anyone around her, and it hurt. Even if he didn't want to acknowledge that they'd been on the edge of something for years, they were still good friends. He should still care enough to want to know she was okay.

As she'd been doing every time she thought of Nate, she shoved him to the back of her mind to focus on more immediate problems. She'd be living with Eliot. She was relieved not to be going home alone, but the thought of being in his space made her uncomfortable. How awkward would it be? How vulnerable would she feel depending on him for everything?

The car stopped, and Eliot cut the engine. Sophie's stomach knotted. She sat very still as she waited to see what came next.

“Stay put,” he said, opening the door. She winced when it slammed shut.

As she waited for him, she felt lost and frightened. Silence surrounded her, and the world felt distant and unreal. It was almost easy to believe Eliot wouldn't be coming back and she'd be in this timeless limbo forever.

Her thoughts were interrupted by her door opening. Eliot reached across her body to unhook her seat belt. Once again, he was more real than anything else around her. His scent teased her nose, and his hair tickled her collarbone.

He helped her out of the car and took her elbow. “My building doesn't have an elevator. I'm on the third floor.”

“Then it's a good thing my legs still work,” she tried to joke despite the heavy feeling in her stomach.

“You're going to be okay,” he said suddenly, as if he'd been listening to her stomach and not her mouth.

“Let's just concentrate on getting inside the building, shall we?”

“I mean it, Soph.”

Not having anything positive to say, she lapsed into silence and let him lead her up the stairs. Something half remembered about counting the steps flashed into her mind, but she ignored it. Today was not the day for counting steps; it was the day for a long, hot bath...which Eliot would have to help her with. Sophie was not very modest, but the thought had her blushing.

“Just a little further.”

He was being very gentle with her, a side of him she rarely got to see. She hoped he wouldn't always treat her as if she were made of glass but, today, she soaked up the care like a sponge.

“There are only two apartments on each floor,” he explained as they got to their floor and started down a hallway. “The guy across from us is all right. Works nights and sleeps days. You probably won't see...” Eliot faltered.

“It's okay, Eliot. 'See' isn't a four letter word.”

“...see much of him,” he finished, still sounding unsure.

Would people always be so self-conscious around her? Would the word 'see' become taboo to her friends just because she couldn't?

“This is us,” he said, stopping and dropping her arm. He searched through his pockets, rattling zippers or buttons and rustling fabric. She felt the air change when the door opened. It wasn't a sensation she remembered feeling before, except for in extreme situations.

"I'm pretty neat, and I'll make an effort to be neater. Everything is supposed to be in a specific place.  We'll talk about that tomorrow." 

"Tomorrow?" 

"Today, we'll just get you comfortable.  Washed.  Fed.  Used to your room.  I did want to give you something." 

"A gift?" 

"Not exactly."  He led her further into the room.  "My place is one level and mostly open concept.  It should help...and so should this." 

Eliot bent before placing something in her hands.  It was long and thin. 

"What's this?" 

"Your independence." 

"I don't understand." 

"It's called a White Cane." 

Sophie ran her hands over it curiously.  "What does it do?" 

"It tells you what's around you." 

"A blind person's cane," she said, remembering every clichéd picture she'd ever seen. 

"You're blind." 

Sophie grimaced.  "It seems that's all I am." 

He was silent, and she felt embarrassed for showing her self-pity.  After a moment, he said, "You're still you." 

"I certainly don't feel like me." 

"Maybe a bath will help.  Sit here."  He helped her into a leather chair that seemed to accept her body like a glove.  "I'll be back in a few minutes." 

Sophie closed her eyes and leaned back against the leather.  She concentrated on her breathing, forcing herself to relax.  The cane lay across her knees, and she wondered if it truly would give her back her independence. 

It wasn't long before Eliot came back, saying, "Okay, let's get you into the bathroom." 

"Eliot, what...?" She had a flash of him bathing her and flushed in embarrassment.

"I have a plan." 

She got up, leaving her cane on the arm of the chair, and let him lead her to the bathroom. 

"The sink is here."  He took her hand and placed it on something that felt like cold stone.  "The toilet is here."  Her hand brushed porcelain.  "The tub is here.  I've filled it with water. Feel this?  This is the towel.  See how close it is?  You should be able to reach it when you stand." 

"What's this?"  Sophie asked as her hand brushed something beside it. 

"Pajamas.  They're on a hanger, right side out.  I thought you might like a nap after we eat.  Hospitals are hell to sleep in. There's some underwear in the left breast pocket." 

"You thought of everything."  Sophie felt tears inexplicably come to her eyes. 

"There's soap and shampoo on the side of the tub.  Just leave your clothes on the floor.  I'll pick them up and wash them later." 

"Thank you."  Her throat burned. 

"You can do this." 

"Of course, I can."  A lifetime of practice kept her voice from giving away her uncertainty. 

"When you're done, open the door and call me.  I'll come get you." 

"I'll be fine." 

"You'll be fine." 

When Sophie heard the door close, she felt the tears start to drip down her face.  Ridiculously, she didn't even know what she was crying for.  She ignored the tears and started unbuttoning her blouse, determined not to be bested by a bathtub full of water.

XXX

Eliot felt helpless, and he didn't like it. He was used to fighting his way through every challenge, meeting it head on until he conquered it. It killed him that he couldn't do that with this one. Instead, he had to sit on the sidelines and watch Sophie struggle to put her life back together. There was nothing he could do but be supportive. It sucked.

By the time they'd entered his apartment, he'd had a heavy, weighted ball in his stomach. It almost physically hurt to see her so frail and uncertain. If Eliot were honest with himself, he'd have to admit he'd always been half in love with Sophie. It had never bothered him because that was her thing, making people love her. If she had ever shown any interest, it might have gone further, but her sights had always been on Nate.

Eliot growled as he started taking out pots. Nate was pissing him off. Eliot knew Nate felt guilty but that was no excuse to avoid Sophie. The drink was one thing, but pretending she didn't exist was something else. Sophie needed Nate, and, instead of stepping up, he'd crawled further into the bottle.

He stewed as he cooked and, by the time the meal was almost done, he was feeling calmer. Eliot was just considering going to check on Sophie when he heard her call his name.

“I'll be right there.” He put down the fork in his hand and headed to the back of his apartment. He found Sophie leaning against the wall, her face unguarded, and her hair still damp against her cheek. She looked unusually young. Young and sad.

Eliot stopped, surprised at suddenly seeing the Sophie she usually kept hidden. As if she felt his presence, she straightened, and the sadness was pushed from her face.

“Eliot?”

“Yeah?”

“Is my shirt buttoned right?”

His eyes dropped from her face to the blue silk of her pajama top. He tried not to notice how it clung to her curves as he traced the buttons down to the hem. “Yes.”

She smiled slightly. “Well, that's something, at least.”

“While the meal is cooking, I'd like to show you where I put your things.”

“My room?”

He nodded without thinking. “Both bedrooms are across from the bathroom. Mine's first and then yours. There's a small exercise room beside the bathroom. You're free to use it, if you like.”

She grimaced. “Not my idea of fun.”

He'd known that, but he wanted her to know she was welcome in every room of his apartment. He wanted her to be comfortable there. 

Eliot led Sophie across the hall and into a room done in grays and blacks. Even the sheets and spread were colorless. He wished the room suited Sophie more; she deserved rich, warm colors, but he hadn't had time to change it. Knowing she'd want to be surrounded by beauty whether she could see it or not, sprucing up the room was high on his 'to do' list.

He took her around the room, telling her where everything was and explaining how he'd organized the things in both her closet and her drawers. After a while, her expression became blank and tired, and he doubted she was able to absorb any more.

“Let's go eat,” he said, breaking off his explanation in mid-sentence.

If she was startled by the change in subject, she didn't show it. 

Once he had her seated at the table, he retrieved the cane and propped it beside her. It was something she was going to have to get used to having with her, and she'd have to put it in a specific spot when she didn't so she could always find it.

“Cane's here,” he said. There was a flash of uncertainty on her face, so he continued, “It's chicken and rice. No sauce. The chicken is on the left, cut small enough you won't need a knife. The rice is on the right.”

Eliot had made the simplest thing he could think of, hoping it wouldn't be too messy. He didn't want her to be embarrassed or uncomfortable.

He watched her tentatively reach forward and find her fork and her plate. His whole body was tense as she slowly and carefully, with the aid of the fingers on her other hand, put rice on her fork. As she brought it up to her mouth, a few grains fell off, landing back in her plate.

“This is really good,” she said around her first bite, a look of pleasure coming over her face.

It made Eliot's stomach turn over. For just a moment, even with the cuts and scrapes on her face, she looked like she had before the explosion. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed her.

“It's just chicken and rice.” he told her, still watching as she took another bite.

“Eliot Spencer chicken and rice.”

“Beats hospital food, huh?”

She made a sound of agreement as she chewed. The look of delight was still on her face.

“Hey, what's going on?”

Sophie visibly started at the cheerful voice as the door burst open, and all of the rice fell off of her fork. Eliot glanced over to see Parker and Hardison coming in, one graceful and the other stumbling a little. 

“Parker?” Sophie asked.

“And Hardison,” Hardison agreed. “What's for dinner?”

“Did you invite them to dinner?” Sophie asked, obviously amused.

“No. Of course not. What are you guys doing here?”

“We came to see Sophie,” Parker told him, coming into the kitchen area and opening the cupboards. 

“What are you doing?”

“Don't you have any cereal?”

“Stop it, Parker.”

She closed the cupboard door with a loud bang. “What's on the stove?”

“It smells great,” Hardison said. “I haven't eaten all day. My stomach is grumbling. Listen to it. If I don't get something to eat...”

“Shut up, Hardison.”

“And grab a plate.” Sophie was smiling. “I'm sure Eliot made enough for four.”

“Don't encourage them,” he told her, but there was no venom in it. If Parker and Hardison made Sophie smile like that, they could stay all night if they wanted to.

XXX

Sophie listened to Parker and Hardison chatter and Eliot occasionally interject something in a gruff, impatient voice. Having them there together was a distraction from her worries, and she could almost pretend she was sitting with her eyes closed, listening to them on her earbud. Where, until now, she had felt as if there were a barrier between her and everyone else, a rubbery wall that surrounded her in her isolation, this little bit of self-deception allowed her to feel like one of them again.

She hid a smile as the air suddenly moved in front of her face, knowing Parker was at it again. Every few minutes, the thief would wave her hands in front of Sophie's eyes as if checking to see if she were still blind. Sophie had caught her doing it at least four times, and there were probably times she hadn't even noticed. Someone else might have been upset, but all Sophie felt was amused affection. She needed Parker to be Parker; it was one of the few things she had to hold onto, and she held tightly.

“Nate says the party is tomorrow night and not to be late,” Parker said suddenly.

At the mention of Nate's name, Sophie stiffened, but she refused to ask about him.

“We're doing that tomorrow?” Eliot questioned.

Sophie felt anxiety twist in her middle with the knowledge that Eliot would be leaving her alone to go on a job.

“Yup.”

“Don't tell Nate,” Hardison said.

Sophie frowned. “Don't tell Nate what?”

His big hand wrapped around hers for an instant. When it was gone, there was something in her palm.

“She shouldn't...” Eliot protested.

“For emergencies.”

Sophie closed her fingers around a smooth, round object. “Is this a...”

“Yes. Don't tell Nate,” he repeated.

She wasn't sure whether the earbud was to make her feel part of the crew or to keep an eye on her but, either way, she was touched.

“What is the job?” she asked.

“I don't think...” Eliot tried to protest again, but Parker interrupted.

“The mark killed kids. Poisoned school lunches.”

“He owns the biggest supplier of food to schools in the state,” Hardison explained. “A couple months ago, kids started getting sick. A few died. Different schools. It was blamed on lunch ladies. Maybe two schools, but four? All supplied by Diamondback Industries.”

“You're sure it was him?” Sophie asked.

“Oh, it was him.”

“Someone came forward when it happened.” Eliot sounded resigned.

“He disappeared?”

“Poof!” Parker agreed.

“What do we know about Mr. Diamondback Industries?” She leaned forward intently.

“He likes cars,” Parker answered. “A lot.”

“Is that your in?”

“Eliot's going to sell him his car.”

Sophie's eyes widened. “What?”

“I'm not selling him my car, Parker.”

“Okay.” Sophie held up a hand. “Start from the beginning.”


	3. Chapter 3

Sophie jerked awake and lay in the dark, her heart pounding and her breathing heavy. It was pitch black, and, for a reason she couldn't remember, she was terrified. She lay stock still trying to assess her situation.

She was in a comfortable bed, covered in warm blankets. The room was quiet, but she smelled the faint, unmistakable aroma of brewing coffee. Her stomach growled in response, and she began to relax as she remembered she was in Eliot's spare room.

Her stomach almost immediately clenched again as the reality of her blindness washed over her in a wave. She clutched the comforter as insecurity and uncertainty tried to overwhelm her. Every morning, she woke to this same feeling of panic. It was strong enough to make her heart race in her chest and drops of sweat gather on her forehead.

She only let the pain and fear torment her for a few seconds before she pushed it away and prepared to face the day. If she'd wanted life to be easy, she never would have become either an actress or a grifter. Blindness was just one more obstacle she'd have to overcome, and she'd face it the same way she faced everything else—with grace and intelligence and a few handy lies when she needed them.

And with coffee.

The smell got stronger, and Sophie wondered what time it was. How did a blind person tell time? Was there such a thing as a talking clock? She pondered this as she slid out of bed. Her cane was propped up against her night stand, so she grabbed it as she got to her feet. It felt foreign in her hand, but she was sure eventually it would be like an extension of herself.

When she managed to make her way to the great room without getting lost or hurting herself, she felt ridiculously proud, like going from one room to another was a great accomplishment.

The scent of bacon and eggs joined the scent of coffee, and she heard snapping and spitting.

“You're making breakfast?”

“I make breakfast every morning.”

“Is there enough for two?”

“Of course.”

Sophie turned towards his voice and froze. She didn't quite know the room yet, and her mind went blank.

“Turn left slightly and you're even with the table. There's nothing else in your way. Come forward until you hit something. That's it.”

She turned. “Here?”

“That's perfect. Come ahead.”

Sophie used her cane to feel her way forward and found the table easily. She sat down and leaned her cane against it.

“How do you feel about tonight?” she asked. 

“Are you sure you want to be on the com?” 

“It will give me something to think about.” She didn't add, “besides being blind,” but they both heard it.

“You gave Parker some good tips.”

“I do know how to pull a con. My mind still works.” After the words were out of her mouth, Sophie winced. Eliot was quiet, and she felt bad for snapping at him.

She listened to him finishing breakfast. The dishes rattled. She heard silverware tinkle against porcelain. Smells grew sharper as Eliot came closer and put both plate and coffee cup in front of her.

“Your cup is here,” he said, taking her hand and placing it against the hot glass. “It will always be here. Exactly. Your fork is on the right side beside your plate. There's scrambled eggs and bacon. Eggs right. Bacon left. Eat up. We've got a long day ahead.”

Sophie curled her fingers around the mug and brought it slowly up to her mouth. She gingerly took a small sip and nearly moaned as the hot liquid slid down her throat. There had been no coffee at the hospital, and Eliot's coffee was of a very good quality. She took two more sips before, just as carefully, putting it down in the exact same spot.

“So, what are we doing today?”

“You're going to learn my apartment inside out and upside down. I want you to think about signing up for rehabilitation and motion therapy.”

She was searching for her fork with her fingers but paused at his words. “What?”

“A therapist teaches you how to organize stuff and how to move so you can live on your own.”

“That's a job?”

“Yes.”

Sophie nodded. “Let's do it.”

“It's gonna be tough.”

“What choice do I have?”

“You can either sit here and wallow in self-pity or you can grab onto this thing and hold on, fighting to get your life back.”

Her hand tightened on her fork. 

“I know you, Sarah, and you're not a self-pity kind of person.”

Even though he'd known it for months, this was the first time he'd ever used her real name. She didn't use it herself anymore. During her voyage of self-discovery, she'd learned that she wasn't Sarah anymore. She hadn't been Sarah for a long time. For better or worse, she'd become Sophie Devereaux. She'd told everyone this but Nate, and they'd accepted it, but hearing her real name now reminded her of how strong Sarah had been to struggle free and fly despite the weight of her family and her pain.

Sophie swallowed and used the fingers of her other hand to find her plate and her eggs. When she didn't answer, Eliot left the table, and there was more rattling of plates and silverware.

As Sophie ate, she thought about the long road ahead. She now knew Eliot's bathroom and was confident about using everything in it without help. Conquering one small room didn't seem like much compared to everything she didn't yet know how to do. Just trying to imagine doing day-to-day things was overwhelming.

She was thinking so hard, she forgot to concentrate and got a nasty surprise as she spilled egg down the front of her pajamas. She gasped as the greasy mess hit her skin. Since she wasn't wearing a bra, it slid between her breasts to land somewhere near her bellybutton. 

Eliot must have seen her grimace because he asked, “Is something wrong?”

“I'm trying to eat by osmosis.”

“What?”

“I don't remember eating being this messy.”

“You're doing good.”

“Tell that to my shirt.”

“It'll wash.”

Sophie appreciated Eliot's patience, especially when she was so impatient herself. His calm helped keep her from shattering, and sometimes it was all that prevented her from giving up and throwing something across the room. Someday, she hoped to be able to repay him for all he was doing for her. It made her sad to know that she may never be able to. Holding back a sigh, she moved that to the back of her mind with everything else she didn't want to worry about yet. For now, she'd try to master eating and go from there.

XXX

Eliot had put notches in her hangers. She'd been so tired when he'd been explaining things the day before that she hadn't really absorbed that fact. Until she learned the easiest way to tell her clothes apart, this would help her know what she was wearing. He really had thought of everything. He explained to her again how many notches meant which color then left her alone to get dressed.

That was the easiest part of her day. Eliot took her through every room but his, made her count her steps, made her use her cane, and put her hand on every object. After awhile, it all started to jumble in her head, and she knew she wouldn't remember everything, at least not today. In the afternoon, he sent her searching for things, some she found and some she couldn't, until she was so frustrated she wanted to scream.

The best part of the whole exercise was when he was leading her somewhere or physically showing her where something was.  She liked having his hand on her skin.  It was a connection she could no longer make with her eyes. For her, blindness made the world around her feel strangely unreal. It was isolating and lonely. Not being able to see anyone else made it seem as if others didn't even exist. Every time Eliot touched her, she no longer felt alone, and it anchored her more firmly in reality.

When he finally let her take a break, Sophie sank thankfully into the comfortable leather chair feeling confused and out of breath and irritable.  She wasn't as good as Nate or Eliot or even Parker at making maps in her head and without the benefit of sight it was even harder. She was sure she'd forget everything as soon as Eliot left, and she didn't think it would be wise to ask him questions during the con.

Eliot nudged her with what she guessed was his knee.  "You okay?" 

"I'm a bit tired." 

"You worked hard today." 

"I'm not sure if it did any good," she admitted. 

"It did." 

He seemed so sure.  He seemed so sure about everything.  Sophie wished she had his confidence. 

"I may not be blind," he continued, " but I know about making a muscle memory, and I know about using all of my senses.  You just need to practice." 

She groaned and tapped his leg with her cane.  He drew in a sharp breath, and she forgot what she was going to say.  "What?" 

"Nothing." 

"Eliot?" 

"It's just..." 

"Just what?"  That little tap couldn't have hurt. 

"Just...uh...aim a little lower next time." 

"Lower?"  she asked, puzzled, then her face flamed as she realized what she had done.  "I'm so sorry." 

"Accidents happen." 

"I wonder how many more people I'll accost with this thing."  She brandished it again, but this time aimed at the floor when she tapped him. 

Eliot's cellphone rang, and she listened as he answered. “Yeah...I'm busy, Hardison...What?...Fine. I'll be there...I said I'll be there.”

“What was that all about?” Sophie asked when he growled impatiently. 

“Nothing important.”

“Don't lie to me, Eliot.”

“I've got to go.”

She gripped the arm of her chair. “Now?”

“I'll be back to fix you something to eat before the party.”

Sophie was suddenly worried, both for the team and about being left alone for the first time. “What's happened?”

“Don't worry.”

“Every time you say that, it makes me worry more.” 

“It's just something Parker and Hardison need my help with, that's all.”

“You're not going to tell me, are you?”

“It's not life threatening. It's stupidity.”

She accepted this and latched onto the fact that he was leaving. She wanted to reach out and grab him but stifled the impulse and just said, “Wait.”

“Hey.” He took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I won't be long. Keep the phone with you. It'll be okay.”

She wanted to believe him, but she wasn't comfortable with the thought of being alone. 

“Soph?”

“I'm sorry, I...” She didn't know how to explain her concerns without appearing fragile.

“Use your cane. Use your head.”

She nodded, forcing her face into bland passivity. “Go help Parker and Hardison.”

He hesitated. She could feel his uncertainty.

“Go.”

“I'll be back soon.” He pressed the portable land line phone into her hand. “Call if there's trouble.”

She smiled. “Are you expecting a group of antagonistic ninjas?”

“Something like that.”

Sophie waved the phone at him. “I'll be fine.”

“I know.”

Then he was gone, and Sophie was left gripping the phone in one hand and her cane in the other. Forcing down panic, she said aloud, “I wonder what's on television at this time of day.”

XXX

It was Parker who discovered him. She came in early to have a bowl of cereal and to talk to Nate about the party. When she entered Nate's apartment, which was also Leverage headquarters, it was eerily quiet. She'd expected Nate to be sitting at the table with a drink in his hand. Since he obviously wasn't downstairs, she grabbed her favorite cereal from the cupboard and went up to the second floor.

When she reached Nate's bedroom, the smell of sour alcohol almost gagged her.  She put her box on the floor and went in, plugging her nose and breathing shallowly through her mouth. 

Nate was lying on top of the rumpled sheets, his body twisted at an uncomfortable angle.  His arm was flung over the side, and his fingers brushed the floor.  Surprisingly, he was only wearing his underwear.

"Nate?"  Parker asked.  "Nate?" 

His only answer was a loud snore. 

Parker braved the smell and unplugged her nose so she could poke him. 

"Where is everybody?"  Hardison's voice traveled up the stairs. 

"Up here!"  Parker called back.  "I'm trying to wake up Nate." 

"Not asleep..."  Nate mumbled.  "Stop yelling." 

"You have to get up.  We need to get ready for the party." 

Again, he didn't answer. 

Parker was relieved to hear Hardison clump up the stairs.  She hated dealing with Nate on her own when he was super drunk. 

"What's going on?"  he asked, coming into the room. 

"He won't get up." 

"Hey, Nate, you okay?" 

"Should we pick him up and throw him in the shower?"  Parker wondered. 

"We'll just hold off on that, baby girl." 

"Nobody's throwing anyone anywhere," Nate mumbled.  "Go away." 

"We have to make our plans for the party," Parker prodded. 

"...the party." 

Parker looked at Hardison.  "What did he say?" 

"You don't want to know.  Nate, get up." 

"Get out." 

"Nate..." 

Nate rolled over and put a pillow over his face.  "Out." 

"I don't like this, Hardison," Parker hissed, her stomach in knots.  Between that and the smell, if she stayed in Nate's bedroom much longer, she'd throw up. 

"Yeah, me neither." 

"Maybe we should call Eliot." 

He pointed at her triumphantly.  "Great idea." 

Parker picked up her box of cereal as they left Nate in his smelly room, and Hardison took out his phone. She listened absently as she munched, happy to pass the responsibility on to someone else. Eliot would come, and he'd make Nate get up.

After Hardison hung up, they sat at the table to wait for Eliot. Parker felt sad. Nothing had seemed right since the explosion. Sophie was gone, and she was hurt. She'd never get better, and she'd probably never come back. Eliot was distracted and even worse tempered than usual. Nate was drinking so much she thought he might die. He couldn't even seem to pull himself back together to do a job properly. They were broken.

Parker wondered if getting Sophie and Nate in the same room would help fix things.  She'd mentioned it to Hardison after their visit with Sophie, but he seemed to think it would just make things worse. She couldn't see how they could get any worse. 

It was only a few minutes before Eliot came barging in.  His face was stormy, and his eyes snapped. "Where is he?"  

Hardison pointed upwards without saying a word.  Eliot growled and started up the stairs.  Parker hugged herself. 

"You all right?"  Hardison asked quietly. 

She nodded, but she didn't feel all right.  She just wanted things to go back to the way they used to be.

XXX

Eliot had been reluctant to leave Sophie, and he'd worried about her the whole time he was at Nate's. Entering his apartment, he was relieved to see her on the couch in front of his TV with the phone by her thigh and her cane across her knees.

“Eliot?” she asked, frowning a little.

“Yeah, it's me. Any problems?”

“No. I've just been listening to this show. I believe they're having a marathon.”

Eliot glanced at the screen. “Doctor Who?”

“Hardison would be proud.”

He grunted in agreement and studied Sophie. She looked calm and relaxed, so he let out a breath he felt he'd been holding for hours. His head had known she would be perfectly fine, but all of his instincts had been screaming at him to watch and protect.

Helping her learn the apartment earlier had been almost painful. He'd wanted to do things for her, to make her burdens less. The need to interfere had been so strong it had bordered on pain, but he'd suppressed it because learning to do things by herself was best for her.

With a sigh, he settled beside her on the couch. Sophie turned towards him, her expression concerned.

“Is everything okay?”

“It's fine.”

“What happened? Will you tell me now?”

He didn't want to. He didn't want her to know how Nate had been acting. It would place an unnecessary burden on her already weighted shoulders. On the other hand, was it fair for him to keep things from her? Sophie deserved his honesty.

“It was Nate.”

An expression she never would have let touch her face a week before crossed it now. “Is he all right?”

“Just drunk.”

“How drunk?”

“Pretty damn drunk.”

Sophie bit her lip but didn't say anything.

“Parker was afraid he'd be too drunk to monitor the party tonight.”

“Is he?”

Eliot shrugged. “I don't know. He's functioning.”

“How is he doing?” she asked, and Eliot could hear all the questions she didn't voice. He'd been dreading those questions. How was he supposed to tell her that Nate didn't want to see her? That Nate was pretending she didn't exist? Sophie deserved so much more than that.

“He's okay.”

“How's he really doing?”

“He's drinking. A lot.”

“Out of control?”

“Yes.”

She reached out, hesitated, then put her hand on his upper arm. “Please watch out for him.”

“Don't worry about him,” he said gruffly, but he squeezed her hand.

“Does he ask about me?” she asked suddenly, and there it was, out in the air.

Eliot thought about how to answer this.

“He doesn't, does he?” she concluded quietly.

“Sophie...”

She pushed from him. “I'm going to go lie down for awhile.”

“Do you want...?”

“No, you stay here. Watch Doctor Who. I'll be out in a bit.”

She took her cane and felt the surrounding furniture, awkwardly making her way around it. She steadied herself on the leather chair and paused, as if getting her bearings. Slowly, she made her way over the open floor. She was a little crooked, and Eliot wanted to jump up and correct her course, but that would have been completely the wrong thing to do. Eliot ached as he watched her because she looked so sad and lost. He wanted to punch Nate for being so weak.

Sophie's progress was painfully slow, but she managed to find the hallway by herself. She corrected her course and seemed to be tentatively trusting her cane. At least the day hadn't been a total loss.

XXX

When Eliot got back to Nate's later that evening, the others were ready and waiting. Hardison would be in Lucille, so he was dressed in a t-shirt and comfortable black jeans, but Parker was dressed for her role as Eliot's girlfriend. Her hair was up, and she was wearing a pretty and simple summery dress. Eliot had chosen a nice, expensive suit for the party, and his hair was up in a neat ponytail. He was pleased to see their outfits would go well together. He and Parker would be attempting to woo the mark with car conversation and sweet smiles. Sophie had been a big help with coaching Parker on how to act, and Eliot was confident Parker would do okay. She looked almost relaxed now, though she seemed to be mumbling to herself.

“What's up with her?” Eliot asked of Hardison, indicating Parker with his chin.

“She's reminding herself not to stab him.”

Of course she was.

Nate was sitting bleary eyed in front of the monitors. His visible part of the con would come later, so, for that night, he'd be listening and directing from the office. He was in his undershirt and his feet were bare. They were probably lucky he was actually wearing pants. He was rubbing the back of his neck and Eliot felt almost sorry for him. 

“Can you do this?” he asked.

Nate glared at him. “You do your job, and I'll do mine.”

“We're counting on it.”

Nate scowled more deeply but remained silent.  He turned in his chair and started fiddling with the glass in front of him.  It was half full of amber liquid.

"Damn, girl, you look good," Hardison said, probably to defuse the tension.

"Is this dress okay?  Sophie suggested it."

"She knows what she's talking about.  You're looking fine."

Parker smiled and gave a little twirl.  "It's swishy."

"That it is."

"Your dress is fine, Parker,"  Eliot said as she continued to swish back and forth.

"I'm glad we went to see her."  She swished again.  "She seemed normal.  Are we really sure she can't see?"

"You think she's making it up?"  he asked incredulously.

"I guess not.  She did need to use her cane to get to the bathroom."

Eliot remembered Parker following her.  He'd been annoyed, but Sophie found it amusing. 

"How did she do today?  Was she okay to leave alone?"  The concern in Hardison's eyes was obvious.  Eliot knew that, like the rest of them, he blamed himself for the explosion.

"Good.  She's doing good."

"I expected her to be walking like this."  Parker squeezed her eyes shut and started walking around, waving her arms like some kind of insane mime.

"Parker."

She stopped.  "She's still Sophie."

"Of course she's still Sophie."

Parker went over and leaned against the table beside Nate.  When he looked up at her with troubled, red rimmed eyes, she said, "You should go see her."

"I don't want to go see her."

"It's not right that you don't."  Nate just looked away, so she got up.  "Sophie should be here."

"Maybe when she's feeling a bit better," Eliot told her, but he didn't believe it.  He doubted Nate would ever let her back in--back in Leverage, back in the apartment, back in his life.

"How long do you think that will be?"

"I don't know, Parker."

"She's better at this than..."

"Enough!"  Nate said sharply, banging his fist on the table.  "Stop talking about Sophie!"

Parker jumped, and her face paled.

"Jesus, Nate."  Eliot strode towards him, feeling anger boil up from his belly.

"What?  What is it, Eliot?  You know the rules.  No talking about Sophie.  There is no Sophie.  As far as we're concerned, there never was a Sophie."

Eliot had to stop himself from punching him. Through clenched teeth, he ground out, "Shut the hell up.”

Nate stood up unsteadily, blinking at Eliot in surprise.

"It's all right, Eliot."  Sophie's soft voice came through the com, and they all heard it.

Nate flinched.  "What's she doing on here?"

"Doesn't matter.  I'm out.  Let Hardison play the big shot at this party of yours."

Without looking at any of them, Eliot turned and stormed out before he did anything he'd later regret. Angrily, he popped out his earbud. Whatever the others had to say, he didn't want to hear it.

XXX

When Sophie heard the doorknob rattle, she stood and stiffened her spine. She knew what needed to be said, no matter how uncomfortable or afraid the words made her feel, and she refused to be the thing that tore the team apart.

As Eliot entered, she struggled to keep her face stern. The door slammed behind him, and she started, her hand tightening on her cane.

"Take it out," he growled angrily. 

"I already have." She hadn't been able to process the babble of voices—upset, angry, raw—that had erupted at Eliot's abrupt departure.

"You shouldn't have heard that." 

"I'm a big girl." 

"Nate's been..." 

"He's really out of control."  She tried not to think about how his words had cut into her heart. 

"That's no excuse." 

"I should leave." 

"What?" 

It wasn't any easier to say the second time.  "I shouldn't be here." 

He came towards her until he was close enough to feel.  Though he didn't touch her, his body heat caressed her skin. "What are you talking about?" 

"It's my fault that things aren't working.  If I'm here with you, I'm just a reminder of everything that's wrong.  I don't want to cause friction between you." 

"This isn't your fault." 

"Then whose fault is it?  You heard what Nate said..." 

"Stop,” he cut her off firmly. 

"You know it's true." 

"What I know is that Nate's a drunk, and his drinking has nothing do to with you.  It comes from inside of him."  She shook her head, and Eliot touched her face, shocking her.  "None of this is your fault.  Quit punishing yourself." 

"You shouldn't have to babysit me.  It's not your job." 

"I want you here.  I don't care what Nate thinks.  I don't care if it hurts him.  This isn't about him." 

"You're doing it out of guilt." 

His hand dropped to her arm.  "Let's sit down." 

She let him lead her to the couch and sat beside him.  "I don't want to be a burden." 

"You're not." 

"If you didn't feel guilty for the explosion, would you have brought me here?" 

"Yes."  He sounded sincere. She still didn't know if she believed him. 

"Why?" 

"You're family."  The words sounded weighted, and Sophie wondered what he wasn't saying. 

"I really should go," she said, giving in. 

"But you won't." 

"No.  I'll stay." 

"It's not wrong to need help, Soph.  We all do sometimes." 

"I don't like it,” Sophie admitted. 

"Nobody does." 

"Are you going to go back and help them with the con?" 

Eliot sighed deeply, and his breath brushed her face and stirred her hair. 

"They need you,” she reminded him softly. 

"Nate shouldn't have..." 

She reached for his arm but got his thigh, just above the knee. Ignoring the accidental intimacy, she said, "Nate's Nate.  We can't change him.  He's a good man, but sometimes his demons are just too strong.  You know that." 

"I'll go back.  For you." 

She smiled.  "Thank you, Eliot." 

"I want you to put your earbud back in," he said. 

"I will.  It's okay.  I know he speaks from pain." 

"No excuse." 

"It'll be all right."  She felt his hand on her face again. "What are you doing?" 

"Your earbud." 

He tucked her hair behind her ear, and his fingers gently brushed her face.  Sophie felt a brief tingle of awareness, which took her by surprise. 

"Can you hear them?"  he asked as he pushed the bud inside of her ear. 

"The party's in a few minutes.  What are we going to do?"  Parker asked. 

"I've got a suit," Hardison replied. 

"Yes," Sophie answered Eliot.  "I can hear them." 

"Sophie, you're back!"  Parker sounded excited. 

"Eliot will meet you at the party.  Remember what we talked about last night." 

"Okay." 

Sophie paused before asking, "Is Nate still here?" 

"Yup.  He's drinking coffee." 

Her eyes widened.  "Coffee?" 

"The Irish kind," Hardison told her. 

That made more sense.  "Nate?" 

"I can't do this now,” he grumbled. 

"I want to talk to you. Later. In private." 

He didn't answer, but he didn't say no. For now, she'd take it.


	4. Chapter 4

Sophie lay in bed wondering what time it was. She'd forgotten to ask Eliot to look for a talking clock, and night and day had jumbled together in her mind. There was warmth on her face, so the sun was up, but there were no sounds to indicate whether Eliot was as well.

He'd come home very late from the party. Despite Sophie's nervousness at being alone and the voices in her ear, she'd fallen asleep on the couch. Maybe it was because of the voices, she admitted, thinking how comforting it had been to hear them talking together. It was kind of like when, as a child, you were in bed listening to the grown-ups talk in the kitchen. She'd slept better with their voices in the background than she had since the explosion.

As she contemplated getting up, she felt sad and a little angry. For the first time, she thought about her hair and makeup. She'd been going with the simple, fresh faced and innocent look because it was easiest, washing her face and brushing the tangles out of her hair, but that wouldn't be good enough forever. Someday, she'd want to interact with the world again, and she wanted to do it as Sophie Devereaux, not as some frumpy blind person whose breasts ate her breakfast and who wore the easiest matching thing to come out of her closet. Her hair, she might manage. After all, her normal style wasn't very elaborate, and she could practically do it...well, in the dark. For anything more complicated, though, she'd probably need Eliot's help. She was at a loss as to what to do about the makeup. Would she have to forgo it altogether? Something so simple, something she'd been doing most of her life, and she may never be able to do it again.

Pushing those thoughts aside, she got up and made her way to her closet. Maybe a long, hot soak would melt some of the sadness and disappointment away. Trying to hide it from Eliot was exhausting.

Because she wanted to look nice for her first meeting with her therapist, she picked out a red silk shirt and matching slacks. Her hand shook a little as she carefully took the clothes from their hangers. The thought of interacting with a stranger when she couldn't see was absolutely terrifying. All of her life, she'd depended on visual cues to tell her who to be and how to act. She didn't know how to be herself with a stranger. Trying to do it with her friends was hard enough.

She was going across the hall to the bathroom when Eliot came out of his room.

“You're up early,” he said sleepily. It was the first time since she'd met him that she'd heard his sleepy voice.

“I have no idea what time it is,” she admitted.

“It's just after six.”

“In the morning?” Sophie couldn't remember the last time she was up at six. When she wasn't running a con, she loved to sleep until at least nine or ten.

Eliot chuckled. “Are you going back to bed?”

She shrugged. “I'm up now. I think I need a clock that talks.”

“I saw one of them in those brochures. I'll see if I can go find you one while you're with Ms. LeBlanc.”

Sophie clutched her clothes to her chest. “You're leaving me alone with her/”

“That's not okay?”

How could she tell him how afraid she was without looking like an idiot? “No. It's fine.”

He was quiet for a minute before saying, “If you're up for it, maybe we could go look for one together.”

Sophie swallowed, almost as afraid of going out in public as she was of her therapist.

“Tell me what you want, and I'll do it.” There was that gentle tone again. She wanted to resent it, but it was reassuring.

“What do you know about applying makeup?”

“What?”

“Never mind.”

“I have...Well, I have some experience.”

She raised an eyebrow in surprise, momentarily forgetting her distress.

“I knew this girl. She did makeup for proms and weddings and...sometimes we'd play with her brushes.”

Sophie laughed.

“No. I mean she liked me to do her...You have a dirty mind.”

Sophie continued to smirk and felt some of her tension ease.

“I won't make you look like a clown, all right?”

His claim to know a bit about applying makeup wasn't that much of a surprise. He seemed to learn something new from every woman he'd ever dated, and his brain was almost as full of information as Hardison's.

“Maybe it would be a good idea to get out of the apartment.” The thought of it made her insides quiver, but she wasn't going to let fear rule her.

“I'll sit with you while you talk with the therapist.”

“Thanks.”

“Do you need any help?”

She shook her head, and her hair fell into her eyes, tickling her eyelids. “I'm going in for a bath.”

“Remember where the hamper is?”

“I think so.”

“I'll go make breakfast.”

As Sophie turned to go into the bathroom, she felt a little lighter. Somehow, talking to Eliot always gave her a bit of hope. He lightened her worry and defused some of the sadness. Without him, she'd probably be wallowing in self-pity. She hoped someday she'd be able to show him how grateful she was for everything he'd done.

XXX

Eliot watched Sophie carefully as the morning went on. She seemed sad, and he could tell pretending to be positive was starting to wear on her. Her smiles were frayed around the edges, and her face was pale and wan.

By the time the therapist got there at noon, Sophie was tense and gripping her cane. Her face didn't show any discomfort, but her knuckles were white. Eliot wished he could spare her the fear he sensed she was hiding. Unfortunately, she needed help, more help than he could give her, to work her way through the darkness. It wasn't light that waited on the other side but independence, self-confidence, and a Sophie that she could once again be proud of.

Eliot opened the door to see a young, attractive woman with a dark ponytail. Her face was freckled, and her nose turned up slightly at the tip.

“Ms. LeBlanc?”

“Trudy, please. You must be Mr. Spencer.”

“Eliot.” He took her hand. She had a firm grip and serious but kind eyes. “Come in.”

Trudy looked around the apartment in approval. “This is good. Neat. Nothing for her to trip over. Have you been going over where everything is kept with her?”

“Yes.”

“And you know not to move anything. Ever.”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

She opened a big bag she had draped over her shoulder and took out a booklet. “This is for you. Read it. Memorize it.”

It was called, “What to do when Someone you Love is Blind”. It looked to be a lot more detailed than the scant brochures he'd picked up. He took it gratefully and flipped through it.

“Thanks.” Just in that quick glance, he'd seen two mistakes he'd inadvertently made already.

Trudy moved past him, zoning in on Sophie. “Hello, Sophie. I'm Trudy. How are you?”

“I'm blind, Trudy. How are you?” Eliot could tell she was trying for a joke, but her tone was strained and her hands didn't relax.

“Not too bad. It's a beautiful day out there. You should feel the sun.”

Sophie tilted her head slightly, and a look of concentration came to her face. “It's nice to get out in the sun,” she agreed.

“May I sit beside you?”

“Yes.”

Trudy sat and put her bag on the floor at her feet.

“Do you want me to stay in the living room with you?” Eliot asked Sophie.

“Why don't you get some tea? Would you like some tea, Trudy?”

“Yes, that would be very nice.”

Eliot nodded. “Okay.”

He moved past them and heard Trudy say, “I'm a rehabilitation therapist. My job is to help you learn to live in the world that's now your new normal. I'll teach you how to organize your life so you won't feel overwhelmed, how to move without getting hurt, and I'll even help you to read again. I'm here for your physical needs. Sophie, are you seeing a counselor?”

Eliot paused and turned back.

“A counselor?” Sophie asked.

“Yes. A grief counselor.”

Sophie shook her head. “I'm fine. I don't need to speak to anyone.”

“You've lost a big part of your life. It's okay to grieve.”

“I don't think that will be necessary.”

“Please consider it. I'll leave you my friend's card when I go. She's very good, and she specializes in your kind of grief. She also understands it. She's blind herself.”

Eliot continued on to the kitchen, but he tucked that bit of information into his mind for later. He had a feeling it wouldn't be long before Sophie's sadness finally overwhelmed her. Now, she was denying it, even to herself, but it couldn't be denied forever.

XXX

Trudy stayed for most of the afternoon and, by the time she left, Sophie was exhausted. Her brain felt over full and the start of a headache thumped behind her eyes. Even so, the session had been both informative and helpful. Sophie was glad that Trudy would be coming by every two days—leaving out Sundays—for the foreseeable future. As she was leaving, Trudy had passed Sophie a catalogue, one in both Roman letters and Braille, so that Eliot could order some things to make Sophie's life easier. One of these was a talking clock, which meant she wouldn't have to leave the apartment for awhile longer.

Sophie was sitting on the couch absorbing all she'd been told when Eliot sat down beside her. He sighed, and she reached out to touch him.

“Is everything all right?”

“I screwed up.”

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

“There were things I didn't know...I never should have taken your arm. I was supposed to wait for you to take mine.”

“We're both learning. You did the best you could.”

“What did you learn?”

“I learned that I have a lot to learn...and that I can still read people. It's not as easy, but I can do it.”

“Trudy?” he asked.

“I didn't realize how much I got from non-visual cues. I thought...”

She thought people would be able to hurt her, and she'd never see it coming. It had taken her by surprise when she began to pick up on the way Trudy spoke and the way she moved.

“Feel better?”

“Yes.”

“Good. About the grief counselor...”

“No.”

The thought of talking about this with someone made her shudder. She was doing just fine. It was difficult, but she beat down all the fears and panics that assailed her throughout the day, and she was coping. She wasn't exactly happy. Mornings were almost unbearable, but she got through them, and she had Eliot to support her and Parker to make her smile. She was doing okay.

“Tell me if you change your mind.”

“I will.” Anxious to change the subject, she asked, “When do you put the next part of the plan in play?”

“What plan?”

“Mr. Diamondback Industries.”

“Oh.” He sounded surprised, almost as if he'd forgotten about the con. “Not until tomorrow. He wants to look at my car and probably make a pass at my girlfriend.”

A smile played along Sophie's lips. “Parker did a very good job last night.”

“For once.”

“Don't be too hard on her. She's come a long way.”

“I know,” he admitted. “Don't tell her I said that.”

“Wouldn't dream of it.”

“You hungry? I was thinking of ordering in.”

Sophie lifted her eyebrows. “Take away?”

“I'm hungry for Chinese.”

Her stomach growled. “That sounds good.”

“Anything in particular?”

She thought of all her favorites and rejected them. “Something not too messy.”

“Gotcha. And while we're waiting, let's go through the catalogue Trudy left.”

“You mean I might actually get my talking clock?”

“Play your cards right, I might even buy you some of those Braille clothing tags.”

Sophie couldn't help the warm laugh that bubbled up from her belly. “Now there's an incentive.”

XXX

Despite everything, the con went well. Even so inebriated he could barely function, Nate had managed to do his job. They'd gotten compensation for the grieving families and the man Sophie had been calling Mr. Diamondback Industries wound up in jail.

Sophie had listened to the whole thing go down on the com, and it made her ache not to be there with them. Alone in Eliot's apartment, she'd felt useless and afraid. 

While that was all going on, Trudy had come and gone twice more. With her help, some things were starting to get easier, and Sophie put herself to work practicing the skills she needed to learn. She still hadn't left the apartment, but she'd successfully—for the most part—made herself a sandwich. Her surroundings had become familiar, and she could move around with proficiency if not with speed. Best of all, her clock, along with some other odds and ends, had arrived, and night and day had begun to make sense.

Even though it had been over a week since she'd woken up in the hospital, sometimes she still couldn't believe she would never see again. The darkness was often crushing and relentless. Sophie tried to fill her mind with all the things she had to learn so she wouldn't have to stop and think about it too much. Eliot had continued to be helpful and kind, and she appreciated him more than she could say. 

Nate was still avoiding her, and it hurt. It annoyed her that she understood and forgave him despite it.

She was sitting alone in the living room, thinking of Nate instead of the British sitcom she was half listening to when the doorbell rang. Sophie froze, and she suddenly felt short of breath. Her chest was tight. Eliot was working out to loud music so, in essence, she was on her own.

Knowing it was ridiculous to be anxious because no one who wished her harm would ring the bell, Sophie forced herself to her feet and to the door. She'd never been afraid of the unknown before, but now that she couldn't see it coming, she felt naked and vulnerable.

She was a woman of many faces, but none of the others had been blind.

At the door, she asked, “Who is it?”

“Parker.”

Sophie sighed with relief and slid her hand up to the chain. She fought with it a minute before it slid free, then she dropped her fingers to the deadbolt. When the door was open, she felt Parker gently push past her.

“Why are you here, Parker?” Sophie asked, not unkindly.

“I'm visiting. Friends visit friends, don't they?”

“Yes. They do.”

“I brought you a present.” 

There was a pause, and Sophie took a moment to realize Parker was holding whatever it was out for her to take. “Thank you, Parker.”

“Oh. I forgot.” Parker came closer. “It's a plant.”

“A plant?”

“When people aren't feeling well, you're supposed to bring them a plant.”

Sophie was touched. “That was very thoughtful of you.”

It was rare that Parker tried to respond in a conventional manner, and it was a shame Sophie couldn't enjoy her present.

“It has pretty flowers,” Parker said.

“I can't see the flowers,” Sophie replied gently.

“I know. Your eyes are broken. That's why I got you this plant.”

Puzzled, Sophie asked, “What do you mean?”

“This plant is for your nose.” Parker lifted the plant close to Sophie's face, and there was the spicy scent of cinnamon. “The leaves smell like cinnamon.”

Sophie leaned forward to sniff the plant more closely. “What is it?”

“It's a scented geranium. The woman at the plant store said you'd like it.”

There was a sudden ache in Sophie's chest. “It's a very good present.”

“You like it?”

“Very much.”

“It is okay if I put it on the coffee table?”

“Yes, go ahead, Parker. Would you like some coffee?”

“Can you make coffee?”

“We'll find out, won't we?”

“Do you want me to do it?”

She was tempted to say yes, but she knew where the coffee was, and Eliot had shown her how to use the percolator. It was just another push in a week of pushes, and she was determined to justify Eliot's faith in her. “No. Have a seat. I can do this.”

She slowly went to the kitchen, and Parker followed her, sitting at the table to wait. For an instant, Sophie stood at the counter, her hands on the cold granite, and felt lost. She suddenly couldn't remember where Eliot kept his special organic coffee blend.

“Sophie?” Parker asked.

“Just thinking.” Sophie forced her thoughts to move, and the answer came to her. She ran her fingers over the cupboards, picking up confidence as she went. She didn't spend much time in the kitchen, but, if she could make a sandwich without cutting her fingers off, she could make coffee.

Parker was silent as Sophie slowly filled the machine with water and ground coffee. Eliot had put a child's 3-D jeweled sticker on the on button, as he had on nearly everything in the apartment, so Sophie had no trouble starting the machine.

“What's it like?” Parker asked suddenly.

“Dark,” Sophie said honestly.

“Is it scary?”

“Sometimes.”

“Does it make you sad?”

“Yes.”

“I want you to come back.”

Sophie sighed. “You know I can't do that.”

“Why not? You helped with the lunch guy. You can help with other stuff.”

She shook her head. “My talent is grifting. I can't grift anymore.”

“You can tell us what to look for. You can tell us what to do. You can make Nate stop.”

“I can't make Nate do anything.”

“He listens to you.”

“And does what he wants anyway.”

“I miss you.” Parker sounded sad.

“You talk to me almost every day.”

“It's not the same.”

“Parker, you know my blindness isn't the only thing keeping me away,” Sophie said softly.

Parker let out a huge huff of air.

“Until Nate is ready to face me, it's better if I stay away.”

The music down the hallway stopped, and she trailed off. It was less than a minute before Eliot strode into the room.

“What's going on?”

“Sophie's making coffee.”

“She is? I'll have some.”

Responding to the lightness in his tone, Sophie tried to push away feelings of melancholy. “And, since you bought me the liquid level indicator, you won't even have to worry about my fingers in your cup.”

She felt Eliot come up beside her. He brushed her as he reached into the cupboard. He smelled of something soft and spicy and of fresh sweat.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting out the cream and sugar to put on the table.”

“I could have done that.”

“I know. Do you want me to put it back?” he teased.

“Of course not.”

“Just checking. What are you doing here, Parker?”

“I brought a plant.”

“What?”

“It was a very nice plant,” Sophie told him.

“How...?”

“I'll show it to you later.” Eliot just grunted, and she couldn't tell whether it was a good grunt or a bad grunt. “Why don't you get that stuff on the table? The coffee smells almost done.”

XXX

Time went so slowly. Without the life skills to do more, all Sophie had to do was talk to Eliot, watch TV, and practice the things Trudy taught her. She couldn't go shopping, go to museums, or even read a book. Trudy had left some Braille flash cards and information, but Sophie was feeling too overwhelmed to even take them out of the box. She knew literacy, along with her cane, was her way to independence but even trying seemed like too much. There were so many other things to learn and too many things to worry about—Eliot, Parker's sadness, Nate's drinking and refusal to see her, Hardison's guilt, and how she was going to keep on hiding from them how not okay she was.

After Parker left, Eliot turned on a boxing match. Sophie sat at the table listening to it and feeling lost.

She was surprised when Eliot muted the TV and said, “Sophie?”

“Yes?”

“How are you feeling?”

Emotions roiled turbulently inside of her, but she just said, puzzled, “I'm fine. Why?”

“I'd like to take you for a walk around the block.”

She felt as if a hand reached into her chest and squeezed her lungs. “What?”

“You haven't been out of the apartment for a week.”

“I...” She didn't want to go outside. Outside was terrifying.

The couch creaked as he got up and his feet scuffed the floor as he crossed to the table. “Just a walk around the block. I'll be with you.”

“There are a lot of things to trip over out there,” she said warily, keeping the fear out of her voice.

“That's what I'm for.”

She couldn't think of a reason to say no. 'I'm afraid' wasn't good enough. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Yes.” She could feel him studying her face. “It's gonna be okay.”

How had she become so easy to read?

“Will you do my makeup?” she asked, half joking.

“Sure.”

“Then let's give it a shot.”

XXX

"Parker, what are you doing?"  Hardison asked as he walked into Nate's apartment to go through their possible client database.

Parker was wandering around the place with her eyes screwed tightly shut and her arms held straight out in front of her. 

"I'm blind today." 

"Like for the whole day?" 

She nodded, feeling her way around the conference table. 

"How did you get here?" 

"I took a cab." 

The thought of Parker walking around outside in traffic with her eyes closed gave him chills.  "Why are you blind today?" 

"I went to see Sophie yesterday." 

Hardison suddenly felt bad for not making more of an effort to go see Sophie himself.  He just felt so awkward that he didn't know what to say, and he was afraid he'd hurt her. "How's she doing?" 

"Okay.  She's sad, though.  Why do you think she's sad?" 

"Think about it.  Imagine you lost your arms, and you could never climb a building again." 

"That would be sad.  Do you think she'll ever be happy again?" 

"I don't know, baby girl.  I just don't know." 

The stairs squeaked, so Hardison looked over to see Nate's legs, which were quickly followed by Nate.  He was rumpled and unsteady. 

"Hi, Nate," Parker said a little too brightly, cracking open an eye. 

Nate winced.  "Parker.  Hardison." 

"You look hard, man," Hardison couldn't help but say. 

"Thanks.  Why are you here?" 

"Looking at the potential client database." 

Parker shrugged.  "I'm out of cereal." 

Nate sighed and padded across the room in his bare feet.  Empty bottles littered the counter, and he sorted through them.  The truly empty ones, he threw in the recycle bag, and the ones with liquid in them, he drained into his mouth first.  Hardison didn't know whether to be disgusted or sympathetic.  He settled on a mixture of both. 

“Have you found us a new client?” Nate asked, tossing a bottle in the trash.

“I think so. Elizabeth Warren. Lost her life savings.”

Nate rubbed a hand over his eye, swaying just a little. “All right, Hardison. Tell me about Elizabeth Warren.”


	5. Chapter 5

Eliot was in his workout room lifting weights, his mind a million miles away. It had been three weeks since he'd brought Sophie into his apartment, and now it seemed as if she'd always been there. His orderly life had become even more orderly, there were girly stickers on his remotes, his coffee maker, his stereo and his microwave, his place smelled like cinnamon, and he'd had to adjust to having someone else in his space, but it was worth it. He liked having her there. Even though it hurt to see her struggling with things he took for granted, it was a joy to see her face in the mornings. He just wished she weren't so sad.

She was hiding it well, of course. There were only glimpses of it here and there in her face, in her posture, in the way she smiled, but he knew her and she had a tell. Eliot did the best he could to help, but he couldn't make her accept her blindness. That had to come from inside of herself.

He was proud of how well she was adapting. She met each challenge stubbornly and worked tirelessly until she'd mastered it. There was a quiet strength in her that he'd always sensed and now got to see first-hand. 

Eliot put his barbell back on the stand and sat up. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his wrist. Trickles of it slid down his backbone and tickled his neck. His muscles felt tired but good.

Glancing at the clock, he saw that it was after eight, and Sophie would be up soon. He wanted to make her pancakes for breakfast, chocolate chip with powdered sugar instead of syrup. Since she'd arrived, Eliot had discovered that he enjoyed cooking for her. She seemed to take pleasure in it, and he enjoyed her moments of happiness.

He got up and grabbed a towel, wiping himself more thoroughly. He'd need a shower before he touched food, but it still made him feel a little more human. As he rubbed his stomach absently, he thought about his plans to go buy Sophie some audiobooks. He sometimes caught her sitting at the table or on the couch for hours, doing nothing but thinking. That couldn't be good for her already compromised state of mind.

Eliot threw the towel in the hamper and went out into the hallway.  Sophie's door was open, and he glanced in to see if she were awake.  What he saw made him freeze in place and the breath catch in his throat.  Sophie was sitting on the bed with her cane in her lap as tears dripped down her face.  The pain in her expression stabbed Eliot in the heart, and he took a step towards her. 

"Soph?" 

She took a shaky breath and reached up to brush some of the tears from her cheek.  Her lip trembled as she said, "I can't stop crying." 

His stomach in knots, Eliot went into the room. Remembering what he'd read about being careful not to startle her, he said, "I'm sitting beside you." 

She nodded and continued to silently weep.  Eliot put his hand on her back and rubbed gently, offering what comfort he could. 

"I think you should call." 

She didn't answer for a long time, so he sat there and waited. He continued his soothing caress, watching her carefully. Seeing Sophie cry was heartbreaking, and it was all he could do not to bring her into his lap to hold. 

Finally, she said, "Yes," and turned her face towards him. 

Eliot swallowed and brushed his fingers over her cheek.  "You'll figure this out," he said roughly. 

She tried to smile through her tears, but it was wobbly at best. 

"Is there anything I can do?" 

"A hug?" 

"I can do that."  He put his arms around her and gently, as if she were made of glass, pulled her to him.  Sophie sighed and hugged him tightly back. 

"It's so lonely in the dark," she whispered, her voice almost too soft to hear. 

"I'm here," was all he could think to say. 

He didn't have the words to reassure her; words weren't really his thing, so he put his caring into his hands as he once more stroked her back.  Sophie sighed, and eventually her trembling began to cease.  Eliot continued to hold her until she let him go.  Then he silently squeezed her hand and got up to go make breakfast.

XXX

Nate ran a tired hand across his forehead. He felt like crap. His head hurt. Hell, his whole body hurt, and his mouth tasted like a rodent had crawled in there and died. His eyes burned and his stomach churned, and he couldn't remember the last time he had a shower. For the first time in weeks, he didn't have a drink in his hand, and he wanted one. Badly. He was dressed in a track suit that had seen better days, but at least he was dressed—if you ignored the fact that he'd forgotten to put on socks.

“Where's Eliot?” he asked, wincing as his own voice pounded inside his head.

“He had an appointment,” Hardison answered, avoiding his gaze. “He'll be a little late.”

Parker just stared at him. He couldn't even begin to guess what she was thinking. From her expression, it wasn't anything good.

“He knew we were doing this today.”

“He'll be here.”

“Maybe we should start without him.”

Hardison shrugged as if it didn't matter to him, but Nate didn't start the briefing. Without Eliot, the team was severely unbalanced, and it was even more obvious that Sophie was missing.

It had been hard meeting with the client alone. Nate had even been halfway sober, but it hadn't felt right. Since he'd broken out of prison, he'd become used to Sophie's quiet, calm presence beside him. She was comfort for everyone that needed it, and knowing she'd never be his again was crushing.

He knew he should talk to her, but he kept putting it off. There was more pain there than he wanted to face sober, and he refused to see her when he was falling down drunk.

The table was silent as they waited. The easy camaraderie of the past was missing these days, and their interactions were often strained. Nate knew he was the cause, but he couldn't seem to bring himself to care. He still dreamed of the explosion, still heard Hardison yelling. It had been a month and, each night, his mind brought him back to that exact moment, the moment no amount of drinking could make him forget.

“I need a drink,” he said, getting up. His hand shook.

Hardison and Parker just looked at him but neither said a word.

XXX

As they walked into the bright and cheerful waiting room, Sophie gripped Eliot's arm more tightly. He could feel her tension and discomfort. Even though her face was carefully blank, her skin was pale.

Because of their daily walks around the block, they moved together easily. She had yet to venture out on her own, but she was no longer afraid to leave the apartment. Unfortunately, interacting with people was still a struggle

He'd helped her to get ready, and her anxiety had been painful to watch. She'd quizzed him about the clothes she'd picked—chosen because of the feel of the fabric; Sophie had a knack for being able to tell what something was made of, the exact blend, just by touch—and asked him to do her makeup. Determined to deserve her trust, he'd carefully applied the minimum, making sure it was flattering. Her hair, she'd done in a simple ponytail, but it looked good. In the end, he'd proclaimed her Sophie Devereaux worthy, and it had brought a beautiful smile to her face.

Eliot was starting to live for her smiles. They were so rare now that every time one was coaxed from her felt like a triumph. He hoped one day her smile would once again be as easy as it used to be.

“Are there many people here?” she asked.

“Just three. A little girl with glasses holding her mama's hand and a guy in work boots.”

He led her up to reception. The young receptionist looked up, taking them in. To Sophie, she said, “Good afternoon, ma'am.”

“I have an appointment with Doctor Shalvis at three.”

The receptionist glanced down at her screen. “Sophie Devereaux?”

“Yes.”

“Please have a seat. The doctor will be with you in a few minutes.”

“Thank you.”

“You're welcome.”

Eliot led her to a line of black chairs across the room from the others “There are chairs here.”

She used her cane and her hands to find one and sat down. He settled beside her. Their chairs were so close together that their sides brushed.

“Tell me about the man,” she said quietly.

“What do you want to know about him?”

“Who is he?”

Eliot frowned. “Blue collar. Construction, maybe.”

“That's the work boots. Jeans?”

“Yeah.”

“What more can you tell me about him?”

Eliot glanced at her. Her blank expression had disappeared. “He's not bad looking, I guess.”

“Eliot.” She poked him gently with her elbow.

“He looks sad.” Eliot studied the man more carefully. “There are ghosts on his face. He keeps rubbing his left ring finger as if there's something missing. His clothes are new. They haven't been worn in, but the shirt's wrinkled. His hair's a little too long. He hasn't shaved for at least a day.”

“Widower,” Sophie replied, her voice so soft it barely reached him.

“I think so.”

“And the little girl?”

“About five. Cute. Withdrawn. Her glasses keep slipping down her nose. She's wearing a pink shirt and jeans.”

“Does she look sad?”

“No. Just withdrawn, kind of like the world doesn't exist.” Eliot felt a pang of sympathy for the kid.

“Her mother...”

Sophie was interrupted by a feminine voice saying, “Sophie Devereaux.”

Eliot looked up to see a red haired woman, probably in her forties, standing in the nearest doorway.

“You're up,” he said to Sophie.

She put her hand briefly on his knee and gave it a quick squeeze. “I want to do this alone.”

“The chairs we're sitting in are part of a row. The door's at the end of the row on the left. I'll wait here for you.”

She nodded, looking both frightened and determined. Without hesitating, she started down the row, trusting her cane. Eliot watched her proudly and protectively until the therapist led her inside and closed the door. Even after she disappeared from view, Eliot continued to watch the door.

XXX

Nate wondered how much longer Eliot was going to be.  He was trying to take it slow, nursing his first drink so he'd be sober enough to lead the briefing.  What he really wanted was to drink himself unconscious.

"All right," he said eventually.  "It doesn't look as if he's going to show." 

Hardison nodded and got to his feet.  Parker looked up from where she was pretending two cat figurines were talking to each other. Nate blinked as he recognized them as a set that had disappeared from the British Museum when he was still an insurance investigator. 

"Parker, what..." 

He didn't get to finish his question.  The door opened, and he turned to give Eliot a hard time for being late.  His breath caught in his chest, and the drink almost tumbled from his hand. Eliot wasn't alone. 

"Sophie!"  Parker said and sprang to her feet.  "You're here." 

"Not my idea," Eliot grumbled. 

Nate barely heard them.  He was too busy staring at Sophie. Despite the fact that her eyes were vacant and she was holding onto Eliot's arm with one hand and a cane with the other, she looked remarkably like her old self.  After weeks of trying not to think of her or talk about her or remember her, seeing her shocked most of the alcohol right out of his system.  Pain squeezed at his lungs, and this time the shaking in his hands wasn't from drink. He swallowed, but the lump in his throat wouldn't go down. 

Sophie turned to Eliot.  "Who's here?" 

"Everyone." 

"You're here for the briefing, right?"  Parker asked. 

"No, Parker.  I'm here to talk to Nate." 

"Will you stay?" 

"That depends on him." 

Nate couldn't move.  He certainly couldn't talk. 

"Can you give us some privacy?"  Sophie asked.  "Eliot?  Parker? Hardison?" 

Eliot glanced at her, and Nate felt a stab of jealousy at the brief tenderness on Eliot's face.  "You sure?" 

She smiled, a sadder smile than Nate was used to, and patted his arm.  "It's all right." 

"Okay.  Come on, Parker, Hardison." 

The two of them obeyed, both looking uncertainly at Nate before they filed out of the apartment. 

"We'll be just downstairs," Eliot told her, glaring at Nate with hostile eyes. 

"Don't worry," she told him.

He frowned and repeated.  "Downstairs." 

He was still frowning when he left the room.  Nate's stomach churned with fear as he was left staring at Sophie.  He'd missed her,  he realized suddenly.  Seeing her was both pleasure and pain. 

"Nate?"  she asked uncertainly, breaking the spell. 

She stood just inside the room, clutching her cane and looking a bit lost. 

"Sophie."  His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. 

She came towards him slowly, her expression showing she was concentrating.  Her cane felt out the way in front of her. 

Nate's stomach dropped.  No matter how much she looked like the same Sophie he'd known for over a decade, she wasn't the same. Because of him, she'd lost a fundamental part of herself.  She'd been hurt beyond repair.  

"I waited for you," she said softly. 

He crossed the room to meet her halfway.  She must have heard him or felt him because she stopped and tipped her face up. 

"I'm sorry," he said and meant it. 

She wrinkled her nose slightly at the alcohol on his breath, and he felt like apologizing for that, too, but he didn't. 

Reaching up, she gently touched his face, and he was embarrassed by the stubble against her palm.  "Oh, Nate." 

"Sophie, I..."  He felt he needed to explain himself. 

"Do you think drinking this heavily is going to help?"  she asked softly.  "You're just going to get somebody hurt." 

He turned from her.  "Don't you mean somebody else?" 

"Is that what's going on?  Do you think I blame you for what happened?" 

"I blame me," he whispered. 

"And you think drinking yourself into oblivion is the answer? Did you stop to think how you'll feel if one of them dies?  Will killing one of them make you feel better?" 

Nate's jaw clenched.  As always, Sophie was the voice of reason when he was out of control.  There she was, standing there in darkness, and she was trying to lead him towards the light.  Life wasn't fair. He should have been the one in the explosion; he should be the one suffering the consequences of his oversight and arrogance. 

"Nate?" 

"It's under control," he lied, hating that he was lying to her. 

She sighed, a soft expulsion of air that was somehow worse than if she'd yelled at him. 

Nate took a deep breath and turned back to her.  "How are you doing?" 

"Are you changing the subject?" 

"No."  He studied her. 

"It's hard.  Lonely.  Frightening.  Boring.  I struggle every day." 

He closed his eyes briefly at the unexpected honesty.  Her words ripped holes in him as if they were daggers.  He really hadn't wanted to know the truth.  For the first time, he'd wanted lies from her, but she'd chosen not to give them. 

"Life's a struggle.  Everything can change when you least expect it.  That's no reason to hide from it.  The pain is what makes the joy mean so much." 

"I can't..." 

"You can't what, Nate?" 

How could he explain that watching her struggling would break him?  Not knowing what to say, he remained silent. 

"I won't come back, if you don't want me to.  I'll even let you pretend I don't exist, but promise me you'll do your job.  Protect them.  Get yourself under control." 

"It wasn't because you were damaged...hurt...Do you understand?" he said quietly, not daring to look at her.  "It wasn't because I didn't want to see you...because I didn't...I did...I do...It's me.  I failed, Sophie.  I failed, and you can't see.  Every time I think of you...seeing you now...that's what I see...I can't stop." 

"Do you think I don't know that?  I know you." 

He gave her a sideways glance and forced out painful words.  "But I don't know you, not anymore.  I don't know how to deal with the new Sophie." 

"Just be her friend," she said simply, reaching for him.  Her hand on his back was warm and gentle. 

"I was always your friend.  Always." 

Sophie smiled, and he felt a little lighter.  "Then we'll go from there." 

He took a shaky breath and nodded, still full of pain but, for the first time, sure that it would fade.  Sure that someday when he looked at Sophie he would just see his friend instead of how his mistake had screwed up her life.

XXX

Eliot, Parker, and Hardison waited about a half an hour before they went back up to the apartment. The first thing Eliot did when he entered the room was search for Sophie. She and Nate were seated very calmly together on a small couch. Neither one was speaking.

“You okay?” he asked.

He hadn't wanted to leave Sophie alone with Nate because Nate's excessive drinking made him unpredictable. Sophie was so fragile that cruel words would hurt her. Eliot wanted to protect her from those words, but Sophie wasn't a child and he refused to treat her like one.

“We're fine,” she assured him.

He couldn't tell whether Nate agreed. The older man looked worn and weary, but he was almost clear eyed for the first time in weeks.

Behind Eliot, Parker and Hardison were unusually quiet. 

Not knowing what else to do, Eliot asked, “Anyone hungry?”

“Starving,” Parker groaned, pushing past him.

“You cooking?” Hardison rubbed his stomach. “Cause I could eat.”

Nate let out a long, deep breath, as if he'd been holding it for hours. “Yes. I think I am.”

Eliot studied Sophie to see what she thought. She had her hands twined together in her lap, and her cane was propped up against the couch beside her.

“Soph?”

“I'd love to stay for dinner...if that's all right with you, Nate.”

They all waited for his answer.

“Sure,” he said. “It's fine. We'll do the briefing after we eat.”

Parker actually smiled, and she flounced over to perch beside Sophie's cane on the arm of the couch. She started chattering about some sort of safe for some reason, and Sophie listened to her attentively. 

Nate placed a hand briefly on Sophie's knee before pushing himself up on unsteady feet. Eliot expected him to make a beeline for his glass and was surprised when Nate headed up the stairs. Hardison wandered over and took Nate's vacated spot beside Sophie, speaking so she'd know it was him.

Left alone, Eliot said, “Well, I guess I'll just get to it, then.”

No one bothered to answer, but he didn't expect them to.

XXX

When they got home that night, Sophie was exhausted but feeling more positive than she had since the explosion.  She hadn't realized how much Nate's silence had been weighing on her. Besides that, her meeting with the grief counselor had gone a long way to easing some of the turbulence in her mind.  Just knowing that her feelings of sadness and anxiety were normal and that she'd have help dealing with them made things a little brighter.

The briefing had been comfortable and familiar. Sophie had expected to be silent for it, but she found herself drawn in instead. All of her comments had been taken seriously, and it had felt good to be part of the team again. 

Now, she yawned widely as Eliot locked the door behind them.  A strange feeling of peace came over her and, with a start, Sophie realized she'd come to think of Eliot's place as home. 

"Long day," he said in response to her yawn. 

"Productive day," she agreed. 

"I don't know what you said to Nate..." 

"I just reminded him of his responsibilities." 

She crossed the room and sank gratefully onto the couch.  She heard Eliot moving around--the jingle of keys, the snap of the lamp, the tinny sound of the zipper on his jacket.  Sophie had become used to the sound of him.  Sometimes, she knew he'd come into the room when she wasn't even conscious of hearing him at all.  His presence had become as much a part of home as his apartment. 

The couch shifted as he settled beside her, and they sat in companionable silence for awhile.  Sophie's eyelids were starting to droop when he suddenly asked, "What are you thinking?" 

She'd been thinking it was time to go to bed, but she answered instead with what she'd been thinking on the way home in the car. "I'm thinking it's time for me to learn Braille.  Will you learn with me?" 

He paused before asking, "You want me to learn Braille?" 

"Yes."  She smiled.  "Be my Braille buddy."  She felt him studying her, so she added, "What good is learning to write when you have no one to write to?" 

"Your Braille buddy?" 

"It might be fun." 

"Why not?"  He sounded slightly amused. 

"We could send secret messages back and forth," she teased. 

"I'll get the books out tomorrow, and we'll give it a try." 

"Trudy will be pleased." 

"Has she been trying to get you to learn?" 

Sophie shrugged.  "She asks me every time she comes if I'm ready.  I've been putting her off." 

"Why?" 

"It seemed too much," she admitted. 

"Not anymore?" 

"I guess we'll find out tomorrow.  It's going to be a long day." 

"Why's that?"  He bumped his shoulder gently against hers. 

"I'm getting my first lesson in navigating the sidewalks of Boston tomorrow." 

She felt him tense.  "Already?" 

"It's been a month.  You don't think I can do it?" 

"You can do whatever you put your mind to." 

"Then why are you tense?" 

He sighed.  "Maybe I'm not ready." 

"You?"  She turned to face him, wishing she could see his expression. 

"Doesn't matter." 

"Eliot." 

"There are cars and trucks out there." 

"I'm aware." 

"That's it." 

"Trudy will be with me until I can do it on my own.  I won't jump into traffic." 

"It's my problem, not yours." 

Maybe she wasn't the only one suffering from some anxiety.  Eliot always seemed so sure, so ready to push her into doing new things.  He'd never once suggested she couldn't do something. 

"I'll be fine," she told him. 

"I know." 

"You've been such a good friend over the past month.  I don't know what I..." 

"Hey," he interrupted.  "Family, remember?" 

"I just wanted to say thanks." 

"Not necessary." 

"Eliot, you haven't even had a date since I've been here." 

"So?" 

"So, you've changed your whole life for me." 

"Maybe I don't want to spend my time with anyone else." 

Sophie snorted in a definitely unladylike way.  "Somehow, I don't believe you.  Go on a date, for God's sake. You leave me alone all the time now. Why should a date be any different?" 

"You want me to go on a date?" 

"I want you to do something for you."  Their shoulders were about the same height and, from the way he was sitting, she knew roughly where his should be, so she reached out to put her hand on it. She felt some satisfaction when she felt his shoulder beneath her palm. 

"A date, huh?" 

"Yes.  A date.  Maybe even one that doesn't end until morning." 

"I'll think about it." 

She squeezed his shoulder before using it to push herself to her feet. 

"Going to bed?" 

"I'm exhausted." 

"Okay.  See you in the morning." 

"Good night."


	6. Chapter 6

“What's wrong with Trudy?” Sophie asked, running a brush through her hair.

“She's your therapist,” Eliot explained as he packed eyeliner and blush back into the small makeup bag.

“What does that have to do with anything? Don't you like her? Is she hideous?”

“No.”

He did like Trudy. She was cute and smart, but he'd never thought of her as anything other than Sophie's therapist. Even considering taking her out made him feel weird.

“Then what is it?”

“I'm not really interested in her.”

“You're not getting married; you're just going out to have fun.”

“No Trudy, all right?”

She sighed. “Fine. You're extremely difficult to set up.”

“I can find my own dates.”

Sophie smiled a teasing smile, but he didn't get a chance to hear what she was going to say because the doorbell rang.

“She's here already?” she said instead, a flash of uncertainty going over her face.

“We can pretend you're not here.”

“Don't be silly, Eliot.” She slipped the elastic off of her wrist and expertly looped it around her hair.

He gave the tail a brief tug before getting up to open the door. Trudy was waiting for him, minus the big bag she usually lugged with her. She smiled a warm but distracted smile as Eliot moved out of the way to let her in.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hey.”

Only hints of Sophie's nerves showed on her face as she got to her feet. “I'm all ready to go.”

Trudy looked her over. “You look different today.”

“Sophie Devereaux never faces the world without makeup.”

Trudy glanced at Eliot. “You did this?”

“Why?” Sophie asked. “How does it look?”

“Good,” Eliot told her.

Trudy agreed, “He did a good job. I might have to get him to do mine.”

Considering he'd never seen her wear makeup, Eliot took the last part as a joke.

“We'll just take a short trip today,” Trudy continued, all business again. “I want to teach you how to listen and know when it is safe to cross the street.”

Sophie nodded.

The thought of Sophie crossing the streets of Boston on her own made his skin crawl, but Eliot kept his mouth tightly shut.

“Sometimes walking in a straight line's tough, too, so that's something else to go over. Are you all right?

“Yes.” The word showed a bit of doubt, but there was nothing but determination on her face.

“Okay. Let's go.” To Eliot, Trudy said, “I'll have her back in about an hour.”

As the two of them left the apartment, Eliot tried not to think of all the things that could go wrong. He knew he had to trust Trudy and he had to trust Sophie. Trust wasn't always easy for him, especially when the life of someone he cared about was being put in harm's way. Unfortunately, crossing the street was something else Sophie had to learn to do on her own. She'd already learned so much that Eliot was proud of her, and that pride was stronger than his fear she'd get hurt.

XXX

As Sophie got out of the shower and dried herself, she thought about how impossible that task had seemed just five weeks before. Now, though it still took some thought it wouldn't have in the past, it was something that had become routine. She had come a long way in five weeks, further than she'd ever thought possible in the beginning. Of course, some things still eluded her. The contracted form of Braille was confusing, and she'd yet to leave the apartment on her own, but she knew those things would come in time.

Things on the Leverage front were slow as they waited for their mark to be in the right place at the right time. As they waited, they had another meeting, and this time Sophie'd been welcomed without protest. Nate sounded better, and she had been able to tell he'd been drinking less both when he spoke and when she'd touched him.

Sophie dressed quickly, pulling a cotton t-shirt over her head and some sweatpants over her hips. They weren't glamourous, but they were comfortable. She was heavily into comfort these days.

Going into the main room, she heard Eliot in the kitchen.  He was banging stuff around and mumbling to himself.  She knew the moment he saw her because he went quiet. 

"Don't stop on my account."  He didn't answer, so she frowned. "Eliot?" 

"Wanna help me out?" 

"Help you?" 

"Yeah.  Chop some carrots.  Maybe some onions and celery." 

Her eyes widened.  "In your kitchen?  While you're cooking?" 

"If I wasn't cooking, I wouldn't ask for help would I?” 

"You never let anyone in your kitchen."  Besides, she'd only used a knife a handful of times since she couldn't see, and her knife cuts were bound to be horrendous.  She might even cut herself. 

"Maybe that should change.  You up for it?" 

Sophie had never liked cooking, but she liked the thought of being in the kitchen with Eliot.  "Okay." 

She went into the kitchen and took out the cutting board.  The knives were in a block next to the stove, so she carefully retrieved one of those, too. 

"Here are the carrots," Eliot said conversationally an instant before she felt his hand on hers. 

Again, as she had at odd times since she'd been there, she felt a tingle of awareness.  To be fair, she'd found Eliot attractive before the explosion, but it wasn't something she'd actively acknowledged because she was so focused on Nate.  Now, she found it interesting that her body still sometimes reacted to touch and scent even without the benefit of sight.  Sophie kept these thoughts from her face as she accepted the bag and set it beside the cutting board. 

"These are going to be rough," she admitted. 

"It doesn't matter." 

"Whatever happened to you eat with your eyes first?" 

"There's nobody here but you and me." 

"Won't wonky carrots mess with your chef sensibilities?" 

"Don't worry about it." 

"If you're sure."  Sophie started chopping the carrots slowly, making sure she knew where her fingers, the carrots, and the knife were before each chop. 

They worked for a few minutes in silence, Eliot pouring and stirring something at the stove.  When Sophie first lost her sight, working like this would have been lonely.  She had been so used to sight being how she related to others that her world had seemed unreal and empty if she wasn't being touched.  Now, sound and smell had taken the place of sight, and she felt content listening to Eliot cook. 

"How you making out?"  he asked coming up beside her, his breath brushing across her face. 

"I don't know.  You tell me." 

"Good.  Do a couple more, and I'll have enough to throw in." 

"Am I too slow?" 

"You're okay.  Keep at it." 

Knowing perfectly well that he didn't need her help but was doing this to include her, she took out another carrot and continued to chop.  Just the act of cutting vegetables seemed freeing because it was something new she could do. She found herself grinning. 

Beside her, she heard Eliot start to chop something. His knife went so fast, it made her breathless.

“What are you doing?”

“The onion, but I'm leaving the celery for you.”

“Are you sure you still have your fingers?”

“Yup. All five, see?” He drummed his fingers on the upper arm of the hand not holding the knife.

“Where'd you learn to chop like that?”

“A friend.” He left it at that, and she didn't want to pry.

“Something for me to aspire to.”

“Uh...okay.”

She laughed. “I'm kidding.”

“Just chop your carrot. The celery is waiting.”

“You're such a cruel taskmaster.”

“Get used to it.”

“Yes, sir.” She saluted him with the next carrot, and, for some reason, she couldn't stop smiling.

XXX

The date had barely started and Eliot was ready for it to end.  It wasn't that Sloan was unattractive.  She had gorgeous legs and a tight, muscled body that showed her love for sports and eating healthy.  Her face was pretty, framed by soft blond curls and accented with big blue eyes.  Eliot should have been drooling all over her, but he didn't feel any spark.  She was pretty and funny and he liked her, but he wasn't the least bit interested in going home with her.

As she sat there, twirling her hair and reading over the menu, Eliot's mind went to Sophie.  He'd left her playing with the new laptop with voice recognition software on it that he'd bought that morning.  She'd discovered an online shopping site, and he really hoped she was using her own credit card and not his.  The thought made him smile slightly. 

When he did, Sloan looked up and caught his eye.  Thinking he was smiling at her, she smiled back.  "I think I'll have the pasta." 

"Good choice.  Me, too." 

Her eyes warmed.  "I'm glad you asked me out." 

Not able to bring himself to lie, he said, "It was time." They'd been running into each other on the trail for months. 

"To tell you the truth, I was surprised." 

"Why is that?"  he asked. 

"I thought you were married." 

This grabbed his attention.  "Why would you think that?" 

"The dark haired woman." 

"Dark haired..." 

"I see you sometimes, when you're not running, walking the neighborhood with her.  Is she your sister?" 

"No. Not my sister." 

"Girlfriend?"  she teased. 

"No.  Just a friend." 

She studied his face.  "A good friend." 

"Yes." 

"Was she born blind?" 

Eliot didn't want to talk about Sophie, not with Sloan.  

"No," he said reluctantly.  "There was an accident." 

"That's too bad." 

Thankfully, the waiter came to take their order, and he didn't have to reply.  Eliot watched Sloan speak and couldn't help but compare her to Sophie.  Both of them were warm, but Sloan was the bright bubbly warmth of sunshine while Sophie was the comforting but hot warmth of a cozy fire.

As the waiter walked away, Sloan turned to him and raised her eyebrows. “What are you thinking about?”

“You look very nice in that dress.”

“Do you like it?”

It was short, form fitting, and sleeveless. “Very much.”

“You look nice, too. I'll bet we're the best looking people here.”

He laughed. “You might be right.”

“So, Eliot, what do you do for a living?”

“I'm a businessman. My company helps people recoup their losses.”

“Sounds interesting. Are you non-profit?”

“We work on an alternative revenue stream.”

“What does that mean, exactly?”

“Our money comes from other sources.”

“How intriguing.”

“What do you do, Sloan?” he asked, changing the subject.

“Oh! I'm a personal trainer.”

As he listened to her start talking about her job, he couldn't help but think about how awkward and forced it felt. He'd much rather have been home with Sophie, cooking and talking about the things they had in common...or not talking at all. Sophie didn't seem to feel the need to fill a silence like most people he knew, and there was something comforting about being companionably quiet.

Sloan continued to talk, and Eliot realized she was very passionate about her job. He found it intensely boring and took a drink of his wine so his mind wouldn't wander.

She was still talking about carbs and sugar when their meal came. Eliot had been able to add a bit to the conversation when she talked about weight training and exercise but, for the most part, he'd listened politely.

The two of them continued to make small talk as they ate. The meal was good, and Sloan was pleasant, but Eliot had to refrain from checking his watch. 

By the time the meal was over, Eliot was ready to go home. He made some excuses, drove Sloan home, and gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek.

As he got back in his car, he felt nothing but relief. The next time Sophie forced him to go on a date, he was dragging her along with him.

XXX

When Eliot entered the apartment, he found Sophie sitting on the couch with her laptop in her lap and her feet resting on the coffee table.  She had in earphones, and there was a rapt look on her face.  She didn't seem to hear the door, so he studied her quietly.  Over the past couple of weeks, some of her sadness had faded; the therapy sessions twice a week seemed to really be helping her process her grief.

Eliot wasn't sure what she was listening to, but it brought a soft, wistful smile to her face.  It made him smile, too.

Suddenly, her expression changed, and she turned towards the door.  "Eliot?"

"I'm back."

Sophie visibly relaxed.  "Already?  You've only been gone..."

She pressed a button on her watch, and a tinny voice said, "Eight-ten."

"...less than two hours."

"It was a bust."

He crossed the room to sit beside her, so close that their sides brushed.  He let her warmth seep into him.

"Book stop and save," she said then popped out her earphones and straightened to put the laptop on the coffee table.  "What was wrong with her?"

"She wasn't my type."

"I thought everyone was your type."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"She was annoying, wasn't she?"

"No.  She was nice."  A little boring, he thought uncharitably.

"Come on, Eliot, tell me," she wheedled, turning to lean against the back of the couch.  She propped up her head with her fist, and her hair spilled over her fingers to caress her wrist.

"There just wasn't any attraction."

"Was she ugly?"

"No."

"Big warts or moles?"

"She was very pretty."

"How pretty?"

"Very pretty," he repeated.

"You've got to give me something.  There had to be a reason you weren't feeling it."

"She asked too many questions," he said pointedly.

Sophie made a sound of amusement, and a lock of hair fell down over her face.  She blew at it, but all that accomplished was to make it float up for a second before coming back down to settle across her nose.  She did it again with the same result.  Amused, Eliot reached out and brushed it back, trailing his fingers across her cheek and running the tips over the shell of her ear.  It was an innocent gesture, but the soft jolt he got when his skin touched hers was anything but.

Sophie stilled, and he said, "It seemed to be bothering you."

"It was," she agreed.  "Thanks."

He was tempted to continue the caress but forced his hand back down into his lap.  The truth was, he liked touching Sophie, and the longer she was in his space, the more he liked it.

"So you won't be asking her out again."

"Huh?"

"The woman who asks all the questions."

"You?"

She huffed in annoyance and slapped him lightly.  "You're hopeless."

When she got to her feet, he asked, "Where are you going?"

"To make some popcorn.  Hardison brought me some movies.  Want to watch?"

"They're not science fiction, are they?"

"I have no idea.  We'll have to take our chances."

"Sure.  Why not?"  Watching Star Wars with Sophie had to at least be as entertaining as eating with Sloan.

"The thumb drive's on the coffee table.  You can hold the laptop."

He grunted in response, picking up the laptop and unplugging the earphones.  Kicking off his shoes, he crossed his ankles on the coffee table and contentedly settled more comfortably against the cushions.


	7. Chapter 7

When they finally got a chance to pull their latest con, Sophie opted to wait for them at Leverage headquarters. She was still talking to Parker almost every day, and Hardison's dropping by had pleased her more than she'd let him know. Things with Nate were still a little awkward, but Sophie was proud of him for pulling himself back together. Nate walked on a thin edge, and, since Sam's death, he was easily broken.

“Hey, Sophie,” Hardison said as she came in the door on Eliot's arm.

The sour smell of old alcohol was gone, and it had been replaced with...

“Is that pizza?”

“Yeah. Want a slice?”

Sophie couldn't remember the last time she'd had pizza.

“It's works,” Parker announced, “but I picked my green peppers off.”

“She doesn't care, Parker,” Eliot growled.

“Works is fine,” Sophie replied, suppressing a smile.

“Do you need help getting to the table or something?” Hardison asked.

“No. I'm fine, thanks.”

She let Eliot go and, using her cane and her memory, made her way across the room.

“Careful,” Nate said, the first indication he was in the room.

She paused. “What is it?”

“I left something...I really should clean this place up.”

“You think?” Eliot still sounded annoyed.

There was some rustling and Nate said, “Okay.”

Sophie continued to the table and took the first seat she felt. Suddenly, Parker was pushing a paper plate into her hands and asking, “Did you want some soda?”

“No, thank you, Parker.”

“So, the mark has finally made it home to the hotel. He had the case with him when he went up to his room,” Nate commented. There was the clink of glass against the table as he sat across from Sophie.

“I checked out his security while he was gone,” Parker mumbled with her mouth full. “A two year old with a blindfold would be able to crack it.”

“Hardison's set up a meeting with him under his Mark Clark persona...”

“That's the man who's interested in his collection?” Sophie asked, taking a bite of her pizza and feeling the sauce graze her cheek.

“That's right.”

“You've got some sauce, Soph,” Eliot said from beside her and gently ran his napkin over it.

She chewed and swallowed before murmuring, “Thanks.”

“Parker will be upstairs stealing the stone while Hardison is downstairs finding out where the collection is hidden.”

“And you'll use the collection to pay back the victims,” she concluded.

“That's the plan.”

Sophie was happy to be included in the latest con; she just wished she were going to be out there pulling it with them.

“You'll be on the com?” he asked.

“If that's all right.”

“Yeah. It's fine.”

They chatted a little more about how they would be approaching things, and Sophie listened as she delicately chewed her pizza. The excitement was high as it always was before a con. Sophie soaked up the energy and, by the time they were leaving and she was putting in the earbud, she felt as hyped as they were. Then, suddenly, they were gone and the place was quiet. Sophie felt cold and alone in the silence. Biting her lip, she made her way to the couch, wondering if she'd ever really feel like a part of Leverage again.

XXX

Sophie walked next to Eliot as they made their way down the sidewalk. The day was bright, and she was enjoying both the company and the sunshine. Walking the neighborhood together had become an almost daily thing. Even though Sophie didn't have to take his arm anymore, she still sometimes did. When she didn't, Eliot easily matched her pace and took the time to tell her when something could trip her up.

She had come to love their walks. They often stopped places now—street vendors, little markets, once even a pet store. Though she had yet to venture out alone, she'd become more comfortable being outside than she thought she ever would again.

Sophie was musing on this when Eliot said, “Wait.”

She paused, taking in the heavy, pleasant scent of different types of fruit. Citrus was the strongest, but she also caught hints of apple, peach, and pear. It smelled so good that she took a deep breath.

“I want to pick up some oranges and white nectarines,” he continued.

“Are there any gala apples?”

“Yes.”

“Pick up some of those, too.”

“Did you want to pay?” It was good practice.

“I didn't bring any money.”

“That's what they all say.”

“Eliot!” The unfamiliar voice made Sophie frown. “Hi!”

He cleared his throat before answering gruffly, “Hi.”

The scent of vanilla surrounded Sophie, mingling with the other smells.

“I just wanted to say again how good a time I had on our date. You must be Sophie.”

A soft but strong hand grabbed Sophie's. She had to stop herself from jerking away in surprise.

“And you must be Sloan.” She smiled politely. Apparently, Eliot's boring question asker had different memories of the date than he did.

“It's so nice to meet you.” Sloan was standing close and spoke extra loudly into Sophie's face.

“You, too.” Sophie's smile started to feel a little strained at the edges. She was relieved when Sloan dropped her hand.

“I was hoping we could get together again.” Sophie assumed this was directed at Eliot.

“Uh...”

“Call me. I've got to go. Bye. See you later, Sophie.”

Sophie waited until her steps retreated until she said, “So, that was Sloan.”

“Yep.”

“She smells nice.”

“Didn't notice.”

“How could you not notice?”

“I didn't. Anything else you need?”

“She seemed to have a good time the other night.”

“She was the one talking.”

Sophie laughed.

“Can we go now?”

“Did you get my apples?”

“Yes.”

“Then I'm ready.” She held out her hand and felt Eliot move to place his forearm under her palm. His skin was warm from the sun and soft from the moisturizing body wash he used. 

She slid her fingers along his arm until she got to his elbow, and then she wrapped her arm around his. He moved in closer, and together they went to pay for their fruit.

XXX

It was annoying that Eliot was picking up Braille faster than she was. The simple form--letters, numbers, and even punctuation--hadn't been too bad, but the contracted version was difficult. She was used to picking things up easily, and she often found herself frustrated when she tried to read anything more complicated than a children's book.

Eliot's ease with it had her wanting to smack him upside the head, violent thoughts for someone who had never considered herself a violent person. He hadn't rubbed it in her face. In fact, he'd been helpful and encouraging. Somehow, that made it worse.

She knew it would become easier with practice. He'd even bought the most current Braille writer to help her figure it out, but sometimes she just wanted to scream and throw the thing out of the window.

Trudy actually said Sophie was coming along well, and so had her counselor when Sophie had voiced her frustrations to her. It was hard to express that she wanted everything to be perfect now, not in time. She wanted to get on with living, stuck in the dark or not.

Sophie was sitting on the couch, struggling through the beginning of what promised to be a steamy romance novel when Eliot came in after his run, banging the door and kicking off his sneakers.

“You're up,” he said, not even out of breath.

“I thought I'd get some practice in.” She grimaced. “Not even the promise of a bodice ripper is tempting me this morning.”

“Bodice ripper?”

“Never mind.” She put down the book. “What are you up to today?”

“A friend's asked me to help with his cooking class. More signed up than he expected, and most of them are beginners. You?”

“I'm walking around the block by myself for the first time.”

“Does Trudy know this?”

“She's supervising.”

“Good.” He sat beside her and tapped her leg.

“Don't think I've forgotten your promise,” she told him, catching his hand.

“What promise is that?”

“Your car.”

Eliot stiffened and then groaned. “I'd forgotten about that.”

“Have you changed your mind?”

He paused before unexpectedly squeezing her hand. “No. I meant it.”

“You're serious.”

“Will you enjoy it?”

Sophie thought about it. “Yes.”

“Then I'm serious.”

“Hmn.” She settled against the back of the couch, her hand still in Eliot's. “Maybe I need a similar incentive to help me learn Braille.”

He laughed. “I'll see what I can do.”

XXX

“Hardison,” Parker whispered. “Hardison!”

He glanced over from where he was playing a video game on the screens. “Parker, why are you whispering? We're the only ones here.”

She shifted closer to him, which he didn't mind at all.

“Hardison.” She poked him. “Pay attention.”

He sighed and put his game on pause. “What?”

“Eliot keeps touching Sophie.”

“Huh?”

“He touches her. Why?” She looked both puzzled and concerned.

“You mean, like, he leads her around, right?”

Parker shook her head, blond hair falling over her eyes. “I don't think so.”

“Parker?”

“When I was over visiting Sophie and Cinnamon...”

“Cinna-who?” Had Sophie gotten a guide dog?

“The plant, Hardison. Keep up.”

“Oh. Yeah. I knew that.” He really hadn't.

“When I was visiting, Eliot touched Sophie's arm. Nicely. Like he liked it.”

Hardison hadn't noticed anything the last time he'd seen them. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” She pulled her knees up and hugged them. “Do you think he likes her?”

“I don't know, Parker. Does that bother you?”

“Do you think that would make her happy again?”

“I don...” He stopped before he repeated himself. “She looked happy when I saw her the last time.”

“She's not. Not all the way like she used to be. Well, like she used to be when Nate wasn't super drunk.”

“You think she's still sad?”

“It's getting better. Her smiles are real again.”

Usually nuances went over Parker's head, so Hardison was impressed with her observation. “She just needs a little more time.”

“I don't like when Sophie's sad. When Sophie's sad, we're all sad.”

Parker was right. After the explosion, they'd all been broken, but as Sophie healed, they all healed.

“I hope Eliot makes her happy,” Parker added.

“We all want her to be happy.”

She nodded, her eyes downcast. 

“Hey, you want to play with me? I'll let you be the thief.”

“Will I get to jump off of buildings?”

“Yup.”

“Sure.” She held out her hand for the controller, and they were soon lost in the game.

XXX

Instead of one day, Eliot ended up helping Rick for the whole week. He got up every morning, ran, showered, made breakfast, and went to the local community centre. He liked teaching for the most part, though one of the older students had grabby hands, and there were two sisters he doubted had a brain cell between them.

He was demonstrating to the sisters for what felt like the fiftieth time how to crack an egg without either losing the egg or getting shells in your bowl when he noticed something was poking into his side from his pocket.

“We'll try harder this time,” Trisha promised a little timidly, and Eliot realized he was scowling.

“Just practice.”

She and Tina nodded together like bobbleheads. He had to refrain from either growling or rolling his eyes as he stepped away from them.

All week, he'd been wearing a chef's uniform because Rick wanted him to play the part. It was Eliot's own suit; he'd owned it for years, and it lived in the back of his closet. It was well cared for and neater even than Rick's slightly rumpled version.

Eliot didn't usually carry anything in his pockets, so he was puzzled. He wondered if he'd jammed something in there when he was helping Marcus earlier. If something had fallen in, he hoped it wasn't anything too messy. Frowning, he fished inside the pocket and came out with a piece of cardstock paper. It was folded and, at first glance, he thought it was blank. Then he saw the dots. Curious, he unfolded the paper to discover a note from Sophie.

'Eliot,

I think I might finally be getting the hang of this. Watch as I perform amazing feats of contraction. I just wanted to say have a good day today. Don't let Mrs. Armstrong pinch your bottom. Be patient with those girls; not everyone picks things up as easily as you do. Bring some Chinese food home for dinner. I'm dying for some Chinese. I don't care how messy it is. That's what napkins are for. If you are making any kind of cake today, don't forget me. I'd also kill for some cake. Think of your poor, blind friend, starving away to nothing. 

If there are any mistakes in this, please don't point them out,  
Sophie'

Eliot felt a wide smile come to his face and read the whole note again. Sophie was definitely getting her sense of humour back.

“What's that?” Rick asked, walking by with another bowl full of eggs.

“Note from Sophie.”

“I haven't seen you smile like that in...Well, I've never seen you smile like that.”

“Shut up.”

Rick grinned. “I've got to meet Sophie.”

“You stay away from Sophie,” he growled.

“Oh, the stories I could tell.”

Eliot pointed his finger at him and repeated, “Stay away from Sophie.”

Rick just winked and continued on with the eggs. Eliot shook his head and refolded the note. Carefully, he put it back in his pocket to read again later when he was alone.

XXX

Henry Cho looked up as the woman entered his store. She was about his age, with long dark hair and a white cane in her hand. Her face showed that she was concentrating. She felt tentatively with her cane and seemed just a little unsure.

“May I help you, ma'am?” he asked.

She turned towards him and smiled a very pretty smile. “Where can I find the bananas and the milk?”

He came from behind the counter and said, “We have some bunches here. How many were you looking for?”

“Five, I think.”

“What kind of milk would you like?”

“A gallon of skim, please.”

“You wait here. I'll go get it.”

“Thank you.” Her smile got warmer, and Henry felt rewarded.

When he got back with the milk, the woman had made it to the counter and was playing with the joined stem of the bananas.

“Here you go, ma'am. Is that everything?”

“Yes, I believe so.”

He rang up her purchases, watching her take out her wallet. As she did, she was mumbling to herself.

“That comes to seven dollars.”

She nodded, put her wallet in the same hand as her cane, and started searching through her pockets. Henry wondered what she was looking for. He understood when he saw her pull out a sleek cell phone. Taking a bill out of her wallet, she took a picture of it with the phone.

“Ten dollars,” her phone chirped.

The woman put the phone away and handed Henry the ten dollar bill. As he gave her the change, she asked, “Could you do me a favour?”

Her voice was soft, and he stopped bagging up her things to listen. Without hesitation, he said, “Yes.”

“Please write a note on the back of the receipt.”

“A note?”

“Yes. Address it to Eliot and let him know I was here.”

“Okay.” He had no idea why but something about this woman made him want to do whatever she asked.

“My name is Sophie,” she added as he started to write, so he wrote,

'Hello, Eliot,

Sophie was at Cho's Market and bought some milk and bananas.

Henry Cho'

“Would you like the receipt in the bag?” he asked.

“No.” She reached out her hand. “I'll put that right in my wallet.”

She looked very pleased with herself, and he was pleased that she was pleased. He placed the receipt in her hand, very careful not to touch her inappropriately.

“Thank you,” she said again. “You've been very helpful.”

Henry nodded and watched her walk out of the store, hoping he'd see her again.


	8. Chapter 8

Eliot was still in his running clothes when he entered Nate's apartment. He felt grungy and sweaty because he hadn't taken the time to go home and freshen up. 

Nate was sitting at the table wearing silk pajamas. There was a plate of food instead of a drink in front of him, but his curly hair was still wild and uncombed. 

“You're eating breakfast?” Eliot asked incredulously. “This early?”

“I was hungry.”

Nate's usual breakfast was Scotch, and it was usually two hours later. “What'd you want to see me for?”

“Sit down. I want to ask you something.”

Eliot warily sat down across from him, unsure what was going on in Nate's mind. Nate didn't hurry. He took a bite of his eggs and chewed slowly. Impatient to get home and in the shower, Eliot fidgeted. After a few minutes, he growled, “What?”

“It's about Sophie,” Nate answered promptly, as if he'd been waiting for Eliot to ask.

“Shouldn't you be asking Sophie?” Eliot leaned back and crossed his arms.

“I wanted to ask you first.” Eliot waited this time, and Nate continued, “How is she doing?”

“I'm not the one to ask.”

“Do you think she'd be up to doing a client meeting?”

Eliot dropped his arms. “What?”

“They're easier with her there. When she says things will be okay, clients believe it.”

“You want her to meet the clients?”

“Just one for now. Start out slow. She seems to be...Well, I think she could do it.”

Eliot had no idea how Nate could think anything about Sophie when he still interacted with her as little as possible. The two of them seemed to have formed a fragile alliance, but Nate hadn't spent nearly enough time with her to know how well she was doing.

As if reading his mind, Nate said, “I'm asking you because you know.”

“Yeah,” Eliot said slowly. “She could do it. She's fine.”

That was close enough to the truth now. She was working through her issues and struggling to find her new normal, but she was functioning a lot better than Nate most days.

“Good.” Nate sighed a deep sigh that Eliot didn't know how to interpret. “Good.”

XXX

"I'm never going to be treated like a functional human being again, am I?"  Sophie asked, her cane tapping the floor in time to her agitation.

Eliot entered the apartment behind her, calmly shutting the door.  Of course he was calm, she thought bitterly, he wasn't the one who'd been treated like a second class citizen.

"All people are ever going to see is this cane, not the woman behind it!"  She waved it in the air and felt almost satisfied when she heard it strike flesh.

"Easy."  He grabbed the cane.

"Did you hear how he spoke to me?"

"It's okay."

"No.  It's not okay.  I might as well be invisible."

"You're not invisible."

"No?  What would you call it?"

Sophie wasn't just mad, she was upset. After two months of hard work, she'd been treated as a mentally challenged invalid. She was both insulted and hurt, and she felt the pain deep in her chest.

"Ignorance."

"No matter what I do, no matter how hard I work, it's always going to be like this, isn't it?  People shouting in my face, people grabbing me, people treating me as if I lost my brains along with my sight."

"Sophie..."

She shoved the cane at him.  "Here, take it.  I don't want it anymore."

Sophie hugged herself as she walked away from both Eliot and her cane.  Eliot paused but followed her.

"It's a reflection of him, not a reflection of you."

She stopped, her arms still tight to her chest.  "What would you know about it?"

"We've all been wounded.  We all have scars.  Some are just more hidden than others."

"I can't see, Eliot."

"I know."  He touched her shoulder gently. 

"That's pretty damn wounded," she whispered, her lips trembling a little.

"Here, I want to show you something."

His hand dropped and there was the rustling of cloth. Curious despite herself, Sophie unclenched enough to rub her arms and listen.

"What are you doing?"

Eliot took her hand.  "May I?"

Still puzzled, she said, "Of course."

Sophie was slightly shocked when she felt more skin.  Eliot had placed her hand against his chest.

"I don't..."  She started before she realized there was a ridge underneath her palm.  She followed it with her fingers, recognizing a roughly healed scar.  It was long and thick, and it had probably almost cost him his life.

"Oh, Eliot," she breathed, feeling sad for the pain he must have endured.  "What happened?"

"A knife.  A man tried to fillet me like a fish.  It was in Banho Zay, about ten years ago.  A militant camp.  I was sent to neutralize it.  They caught me."

"Torture?"  she asked softly.

"Yeah.  Some.  And then this man came with the knife."

She followed the scar again, picturing him broken and bleeding.  "Are there more?"

"In the job description."

"How many?"

"A lot.  Most have faded.  Some are like this.  Ugly."

"And some are on the inside where no one can see them."

He didn't answer this, and Sophie bit her lip as she thought of all those times he'd been out there alone, fighting for his life.  All those scars he had that couldn't be seen.

She realized she was still caressing his chest.  It was hard and warm.  Slowly, she drew her hand back as her heart sped up.  She flushed.

"Don't worry so much about what strangers think," he said, his voice a little gruffer than normal.  "They don't matter."

She nodded, her fingers tingling.

"Hey."  He touched her face.  "I mean it."

His calloused hand was gentle, and Sophie swallowed, suddenly very aware of how close he was.  His thumb stroked across her cheek in a soft caress.  When he went to withdraw his hand, she covered his with hers.  Closing her eyes, she turned her face and bravely kissed his palm.  She heard his sharp intake of breath and wondered if she'd assumed too much.

Eliot shifted, and she released him.  Before she could wonder if she should apologize, his arms were going around her, and he was pulling her against him in a firm hug.  His lips brushed her ear, and she buried her face in his neck, holding on to him.

"It's okay."  The words were just barely audible.  "I've got you, and I'm not letting go."

XXX

Sophie sat next to Nate, not knowing what to expect. The bar was full of familiar sounds and smells, and even the bench felt familiar beneath her bottom. Even so, her stomach fluttered nervously.

“You all right?” Nate asked.

“I'm just wondering how the client will react.”

“To you?”

“Sometimes all people see is the cane.”

“Have you thought about using that to your advantage?”

“How do you mean?”

“You know better than anyone that when people see what they expect to see, they don't look for anything else.”

Sophie thought about this, realizing, as a grifter, this was something she should have thought of right away. Maybe she really had lost her mind along with her sight.

Nate touched her arm. “There's our girl.”

“What does she look like?”

“Young. Upset. Her clothes are conservative. She's not wearing makeup,” he murmured.

“Mr. Ford?” a soft voice asked. It was rather timid.

“Yes. I'm Nate Ford, and this is Sophie Devereaux. You must be Charlotte Hines. Please sit down.”

The table moved a bit under Sophie's forearm as their client got situated.

“Thank you for seeing me, Mr. Ford...Ms. Devereaux. I didn't know where else to go.”

“Why don't you tell us what's happened,” Nate suggested gently. He was always very gentle with the female clients.

There was a pause and Sophie could hear the client tapping her fingers on the table top.

“It's okay, Miss Hines,” Nate said. “Take your time.”

“Charlotte, please.”

“Charlotte.”

After another long pause, Charlotte finally said, “He took everything—everything--and it's all my fault.” Her voice trembled, showing she was near tears.

Sophie reached out, orienting on the finger taps, and placed her hand over Charlotte's. “Whatever happened, I'm sure it's not your fault.”

“But it is. I believed everything he said, and my father paid the price.”

“Please start at the beginning.”

Charlotte took a shaky breath. “My father isn't a wealthy man, but we always had enough to live on. He put me through school. I played sports, took piano lessons...He owned a little flower shop. He bought it when my mom died and named it after her.” She paused again, and Sophie felt her hand shake. “A couple of months ago, I met Matt. He seemed so perfect. We dated and, when it got serious, he asked me to marry him. I loved him. Despite myself, I still love him.”

“What happened?”

“He convinced my father to sign the store over to him so we could run it after the wedding. My father could retire, and the shop would stay in the family. After that, Matt disappeared, leaving a note breaking off our engagement.”

“The cad,” Sophie said.

“The worst part was I soon found out he'd been sending my father letters under another name for over a year trying to buy the shop. He's actually a developer, and he needed my father's land to build a huge hotel...And I'm not the first person he's done this to. He preys on vulnerable women. He takes everything they have...”

“You want your father's store back?” Nate asked.

“Yes, and I don't want him to do to anyone else what he did to me. Being lonely is bad enough, but nobody deserves to feel the way I feel.”

“We understand,” Sophie said.

“Thank you.”

“Don't worry. We'll fix this, won't we, Nate?”

“Trust us, Charlotte. We'll get your father's shop back.”

XXX

"Matthew Johnson, AKA Matthew Amirault, AKA Matthew Jones, AKA who knows how many others," Hardison said, bringing up pictures of the man he was talking about.

Eliot glanced at them briefly but mostly his eyes were on Sophie.  She'd looked thoughtful since she and Nate had gotten back from the client meeting a couple of hours earlier, and Eliot wondered what she was thinking about. 

"He likes to buy up properties in up and coming neighborhoods, and he doesn't really care what he has to do to get them. Charlotte Hines is just the last in a long line of women he's romanced out of property he wanted to get his hands on.  He likes them lonely; he likes them vulnerable; he likes them rich.  He promises them everything to get what he wants, then he disappears. 

"Nice guy," Eliot commented. 

"Real nice guy.  He's not above taking more than just the property, either.  Most of the women were left broke." 

"So how do we get back at a guy like this, Nate?"  Parker asked. "We can't steal a building...or can we?  That would be cool!" 

"We give him what he wants, Parker," Sophie said quietly. 

Parker looked at her.  "What do you mean?" 

"He preys on lonely, vulnerable women, so that's what we give him." 

"Right," Nate said.  "So, Parker..." 

"Not Parker," Sophie interrupted him.  "Me." 

"What?"  Eliot asked at the same time Nate asked, "You?" 

"It was your idea, really," she told Nate. 

Eliot glared at Nate, who shook his head, looking baffled. 

"You said I should take advantage of the fact that some people only see my cane." 

"In life, Sophie.  I didn't mean in a con.  You can't participate in a con..." 

"Why not?" 

"Because..." 

"Because I'm blind?  That's the exact reason I should do this." 

"Absolutely not.  No." 

Eliot wanted to echo Nate's protests, but he didn't want to sound like an ass. Instead, he said, "Are you sure about this, Sophie?" 

"Has Johnson ever hurt anyone, Hardison?"  she asked. 

"Uh...No...Not that I saw." 

She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms.  Her expression was stubborn and determined.  Eliot wanted to protect her. He didn't want anything else to ever hurt her again, but he wasn't Sophie's jailer. She had her own mind. Just because she couldn't see didn't mean her brain wasn't functioning just fine. She needed to make her own choices. Even so, thinking about her involved in a con made him start to sweat.

Calmly, he asked, "Have you thought about this?  What if something goes wrong?" 

"I'll be on the earbud.  You'll be there.  Hardison will be there.  Parker will be there.  Nate will be there." 

"She's got a point, Nate," he admitted. 

Nate's face was white and his hand was shaking.  Parker, uncharacteristically, poured out a small drink and put it gently in his hand.  The liquid sloshed slightly. 

"We need this, Nate," Sophie said quietly.  "All of us.  The last time I was on a con, I was badly hurt.  It's only natural for us to be afraid." 

"Fear sucks," Parker mumbled. 

"Yes, it does," Sophie agreed.  "The only way we're going to get rid of the fear is to beat it." 

"Show it who's boss," Hardison put in. 

Sophie smiled, and it lit up her face.  "Exactly." 

Nate didn't look convinced, so Eliot said, "I think we should let her do it." 

"Me, too," Parker added. 

Hardison just shrugged. 

Nate lifted the glass to take a drink, and his hand shook harder. By the time he put the glass back down, he looked calmer.  "Just as the bait," he said.  "I don't want her put in any danger whatsoever, and she's on the com at all times.  Eliot will stick to her like glue." 

"Won't that crimp my style?"  she asked. 

"Those are my terms." 

"He won't even know I'm there," Eliot assured her, more than happy to be her shadow. 

"All right then, Hardison, make a background for Sophie the mark can't refuse, and we'll go from there." 

Eliot glanced at Sophie.  She was a little pale herself.  He wondered if she were already regretting her decision.

XXX

“Thanks for backing me up today,” Sophie said as she settled beside Eliot in their usual spot on the couch. She set her cane on the other side, leaning it up against the couch arm.

“I'm proud of you,” he said, taking her hand. “Putting yourself out there couldn't have been easy.”

“I haven't done anything yet.” She shifted her hand to thread her fingers through his. “There's still a very real possibility that I'll mess up everything.”

“I don't think so.”

“No?”

“You're Sophie Devereaux.”

She shook her head. “I don't know.”

“I do.”

Sophie sighed and lay her head on his shoulder. His warmth seeped through his shirt and into her skin.

“You all right?”

“I'm scared to death,” she admitted.

“You'll do great.”

She wished she had as much faith in herself as he seemed to have in her.

“Sophie?”

“Hmn?”

“Don't let anyone make you believe you can't do something. Not even me.”

“Even drive a car?” She smirked.

“I still have Mr. Cho's letter. It's going to happen.”

“I'll believe it then.”

“One thing at a time, all right? Let's crush this con first.”

“Then I can crash your car?”

She felt his wince go through his whole body and laughed.

“Don't even joke.”

“It's a big field, right?”

“Yup.”

“Good. I'll need the room.” All she had to do was live through the con first.

Eliot made a sound of amusement and kissed her forehead. Sophie's body relaxed in contentment when he lay his cheek against her hair. They hadn't spoken about their hug of a few days before but, since then, their touches had become more intimate. Sophie was beginning to realize that being there with Eliot felt nicer than anything she'd felt in a very long time.


	9. Chapter 9

Nate studied the man who walked into his new, makeshift office with barely concealed distaste. Johnson was handsome and graceful, and he wore a suit that probably cost a small fortune. His face was pleasant enough, but he had cold eyes.

“Jack Montgomery?” Johnson asked, putting out his hand for Nate to shake.

“That's me,” Nate agreed, taking the offered hand. Johnson had a firm grip.

“I have a proposal for you, Mr. Montgomery.”

Nate motioned to a chair in front of the desk. “Have a seat. Will this proposition make me money?”

“I guarantee it,” Johnson replied smugly as he settled into the chair.

“Anything that makes me money is certainly worth my time. What can I help you with?”

“The three buildings you own on Missionary...”

“Wait. Wait. Hold up.” Nate held up a hand. “I don't own property on Missionary.”

“My research shows...”

“I manage three buildings. Manage. For the daughter of an old friend.”

“A woman?” Johnson leaned forward. “Do you think she'll sell?”

“Nah. She doesn't need the money, and her father didn't want her to.”

“I can be very persuasive.”

“Good luck.”

“What can you tell me about this woman?”

“Her name is Virginia Moody. Early forties. Lives alone. No family. Oh, and she's blind.”

Nate could practically see the gears turning in Johnson's mind. “You're sure she won't sell?”

“No chance.”

“That's a shame.” Johnson got up. “Thanks for seeing me anyway, Mr. Montgomery.”

“No problem.”

Johnson was trying to look defeated, but his excitement leaked through. He was definitely on the hook. All Sophie had to do was reel him in.

XXX

“Okay, Sophie, he's coming towards you,” Eliot warned through the com. “You're up.”

Sophie was sitting at a bar in a place she'd never been. The stool beneath her was hard, and the counter top was rough and scarred. As she waited for the mark to approach, she ran her fingers over the deep scratches with a purposefully wistful expression on her face. 

Nate had assured her the place was on par with McRory's, so at least there were no sticky spots under her hands, and the bartender had been friendly and polite. Interestingly, his voice had also been laced with a gentle kindness that had no hint of flirtation.

When someone sat on the stool beside her, Eliot gruffly said, “That's him.”

She absorbed this information without changing expression. Playing with her glass, she waited for Johnson to make his move.

“Whatever you do, don't stab him,” Parker reminded her, and Sophie smiled.

“If you don't mind me saying so,” Johnson said, “you have a beautiful smile.”

Sophie forced her breath to catch. “Oh, I didn't know anyone was there.”

“I'm sorry if I startled you.” He had a deep, pleasant voice, smooth and warm.

“That's all right, Mr...”

“Hoffman, but you can call me Matthew.”

“Matthew.” She smiled again, this one not quite as genuine but a bit more sweet.

“You're not the type of woman I normally find in places like this.”

“What do you mean?”

“It's obvious that you're more used to wine than beer.”

Sophie let a bit of melancholy leak into her face. “I've had a bad day.”

“I'm a very good listener.”

“I don't even know you.” The character was becoming easier the more she talked to him.

“You will if you give me your name.”

She titled her head at him. “My cane doesn't scare you?”

“I'm not easily frightened.”

She held out her hand. “Virginia Moody.”

Sophie felt real butterflies as he took it, but not because of his touch. It was a mixture of excitement and fear.

“Virginia. Nice to meet you.” His hand was smooth and firm. Sophie held it for just an instant longer than was normal.

“And you, Matthew? What brings you here?”

“I sometimes come here for a friendly drink after work.”

“What do you do?”

“I own a used book shop.”

“He actually does. One of his recent acquisitions is Hoffman's Books, and he hasn't closed it yet,” Hardison said.

“That's nice. I love to read.” Sophie turned her whole attention on him. At one time, she would have done this mostly with her eyes, but now she turned her body slightly towards him and listened.

“We have a section of accessible books—audiobooks, Braille, that type of thing. Maybe you could come by and have a look.”

“I'd like that.”

“Me, too. So, tell me. What has got a pretty girl like you upset enough to drink in a bar like this?”

“This was my Daddy's favorite place,” she told him confidingly. “I come here when I miss him.”

“You miss him today?”

She nodded and ducked her head. If she could see, she'd be staring at her hands.

“What happened?” he asked gently.

He was good, she had to give him that. If she were really the woman she was pretending to be, she might have fallen for his nice guy act.

Making her expression say that she'd decided to take a chance and trust him, Sophie started spinning her own lie based on the background Hardison had provided. She was careful to tell it to him in a way that was both convincing and guileless. As she went on, she could feel Johnson falling.

Satisfaction curled up from her belly, and her confidence grew with every word she uttered. She began to realize that sight was only part of the arsenal she used as a grifter, and this blind and vulnerable woman might be someone she could use again and again. She was disarming and vulnerable; she was nonthreatening and above suspicion. The thought excited her, and she dug in deeper, exploring the character and all of her facets.

By the time Johnson left, Sophie knew she had him convinced she'd be the perfect target. She'd let him charm a date out of her for Friday and was looking forward to it almost as much as she would a real date. As she met up with Eliot outside of the bar, she couldn't stop smiling. She took his arm, his chauffeur jacket thick and fuzzy against her fingers, and let him lead her to the car.

When he paused to open the door, he leaned in to whisper, “You did great.”

“Of course, I did.” She patted his arm and teased, “And you were worried.”

XXX

“How do I look?” Sophie asked, turning slowly in front of him.

Eliot studied her from all angles, admiring the way the small slip of a dress hugged her body. Her hair was loose and brushing her bare shoulders, and she was beaming with excitement. He thought she looked amazing.

“Good,” he said.

Sophie frowned. “Is that all? I want to be a distraction.”

“You'll be a distraction,” he assured her.

“I suppose it doesn't matter. It's my property and my money he's attracted to.”

Eliot studied her again, sure that wasn't the only thing Johnson would find attractive, not if he had eyes in his head. “Trust me, he won't just be thinking of your property.”

“Are you sure I look all right? Sometimes I feel...”

“Soph.”

“What?”

“That dress was made for you.” Giving in to temptation, he ran a fingertip down her upper arm, enjoying the feel of her skin. Her breath caught audibly at the touch, and Eliot smiled.

“You really like it?” Her eyebrows rose.

“Yes.”

“Okay, then I'm ready. Let's go.”

Eliot sighed. He would much rather stay in and watch Sophie. “I'll go get my jacket and hat.”

Once more, he was going to be Sophie's driver. It kept him both close and invisible. That creep Johnson wasn't going to be able to make a move Eliot didn't see. If he didn't treat Sophie with respect, Eliot would remember, and Johnson would pay for it at the end of the con.

XXX

Sophie sighed and put the book on her night stand.  She was feeling a little soft and fluttery inside, as she did every time she finished a good romance novel.  This one had been very good.  It was full of heart...and the hot sex scenes hadn't been bad, either.

Along with the wistful ache the ending had left her with, Sophie was feeling a deep sense of satisfaction.  She'd finished her first Braille novel, complete with complicated contractions.  The going had been slow at first, but the further she got, the easier it had become. She was proud of herself.

It wasn't just because of the book.  The book was a big part of it, knowing she had wrangled a difficult task until it had been manageable, but there was everything else, too.  She had settled back into her life.  It wasn't the same fit, but it wasn't bad.  She had been grifting again.  Over the two weeks she'd been 'dating' Johnson, her confidence had grown in leaps and bounds.  Then there was the interesting thing that was slowly developing between her and Eliot.  She was reluctant to define it, but she liked it.

After the explosion, which she still wasn't able to remember, she'd really believed her life was over. So much had changed since then that she now saw opportunities mixed in with the challenges. Life, as it usually did, was sorting itself out and, while it was different, it still had the potential to be good.

Feeling almost light, she settled into bed and pulled up the covers.  Reaching over, she tapped the top of her clock.

"Twelve...oh...four."

Time to get to sleep.  She'd be showing Matthew around the buildings he coveted the next afternoon, and she wanted to be rested.  She closed her eyes and went immediately to sleep, her dreams full of romance and adventure, warmth and excitement.


	10. Chapter 10

Nate carefully listened to the voices on the com. He was alone in his living room, but he didn't feel alone.  As always, each member of his team was only a word away. 

At the beginning, there'd been some bickering  and what he considered small talk between Eliot, Parker, and Hardison.  During this phase, Sophie, as usual, stayed silent.  (She'd always preferred to let the conversations flow around her while she listened to nuances no one else could hear.)  Once the action had started, everyone else had fallen silent, and Sophie had taken over. 

Sophie, of course, did everything perfectly, and the mark believed everything that came out of her mouth. 

As Sophie spoke, Nate felt a weight start to lift off of his shoulders.  Tense muscles he hadn't even known were tense began to relax.  For the first time since the explosion, he really started to believe everything was going to be okay. 

Nate closed his eyes, listening to Sophie weave her web tighter around Johnson.  There was some brief chatter between Parker and Hardison, but all of Nate's focus was on Sophie. 

Over the past five years, continuing on had been hard for Nate. He'd tried to drink himself to death several times.  He'd had periods of hopeless depression so bad that he took them out on the team.  One of the main things that had kept him going had been Sophie.  She was always that push he needed or the voice of reason or just the friend holding his hand so he didn't jump.  When she lost her sight, he should have been the same for her.  His weakness shouldn't have prevented it.  He added his guilt from that to his guilt about so many things.  He'd been a bad friend, but now he was going to change that.  She didn't need him as much as she had, and she had Eliot for most things, but he'd do what he could. 

A part of him grieved for all that Sophie had lost, and it grieved for the promise between them that would now never be realized.  He'd seen the way Eliot and Sophie were around each other, and he knew he'd lost his chance.  Even if the chance were there, he didn't know if the guilt would have let him love Sophie the way she deserved to be loved. 

The tour of the building seemed to be taking a long time, Nate decided, zoning back in on Sophie's conversation with the mark. Maybe that's because he found Johnson boring.  He considered getting up to get a drink to pass the time but shrugged it off. The craving wasn't that strong yet, and he liked hearing one of Sophie's characters on the com again.  He settled more comfortably in his chair and leaned his head back, listening to her distinctly American fake accent.

XXX

Sophie was lying in bed enjoying the fact that she could. She didn't have a date with Matthew that day, and Eliot had left early to cover for his friend, Rick, who was in the hospital with his delivering wife. There was no one to make her breakfast, but there was no reason to get up, either. Her bed was comfortable, and the silence was peaceful...

That thought was cut off by the jarring ring of the doorbell. It rang once and then five times in quick succession. After a pause, it rang again, this time six times. Sophie counted.

With a groan, she struggled out of bed and slapped the top of her alarm clock.

“Eight-thirty-seven.”

It wasn't even nine o'clock yet!

Sophie stumbled sleepily out into the great room as the doorbell went again. This time, it was a burst of eight followed by a burst of five.

“I'm coming, Parker,” Sophie called.

A muffled, “How'd you know it was me?” came through the door.

“Lucky guess.”

When she had all the locks undone, Parker breezed by her. “Guess what I've got, Sophie.”

“I have no idea.”

“Hey, you're still in your pajamas.”

“I'm aware of that.” She relocked the door.

“They're shiny. Are they silk?”

“Yes.”

“Can I feel?”

“I'd rather you didn't,” she said, feeling grumpy.

There were noises as Parker set something on the coffee table. Confused,Sophie followed her. “Parker, why are you here?”

“I wanted to bring you something.”

“What's that?”

“Just some stuff. Come see.”

Sophie obediently made her way to the couch. When she got close, Parker plunked something into her hands. “What...?”

“Feel it.”

Sophie did as instructed. It was smooth and, as her hands ran over it, she realized it felt familiar. “Were you in my storage room?”

“Yeah, but not to take anything. Well, not to take anything for me.”

“I don't understand.”

“I wanted to bring you some stuff to look at even with broken eyes.”

Sophie paused in her exploration. “Stuff to look at?”

“You're stuck here in Eliot's place. You need some Sophie stuff.”

Sophie sat and put the statue on the coffee table. Reaching into the box, she felt around. It was filled with tactile, priceless pieces of art.

“Is that okay?” Parker asked, suddenly sounding tentative.

“More than okay.”

One of the things that had still been weighing on Sophie's mind was that she'd never be able to enjoy the beautiful pieces of art she'd always loved. It had never occurred to her that some pieces were three dimensional and a pleasure to touch.

“Thank you, Parker.” Sophie started taking things out of the box and placing them beside the first statue.

“You're welcome...Hey, have you got any cereal?”

XXX

While Johnson's attention had been on wooing Sophie, Hardison's attention had been on Johnson's business. More than his business, as a matter of fact. Satisfaction almost made Eliot smile as he stood with the others, arms crossed and a glare in place, watching Detective Bonanno lead Johnson away. Johnson's business was in ruins, and he'd be in prison for years. He'd never be preying on vulnerable young women again.

Sophie was standing beside him, her expression as enigmatic as it had ever been before the explosion, but he saw satisfaction in it as well.

Johnson shrugged out of Bonanno's hold for an instant and turned back. “I trusted you,” he said angrily. “Are you even blind?”

His question made Sophie laugh, and a hint of pleasure touched her cheeks. She didn't answer him, but she raised her free hand and waved blithely. He growled but didn't get a chance to reply because he was grabbed and led towards the waiting car.

“Job well done, guys,” Nate said, his eyes still on Johnson.

“Piece of cake.” Hardison grinned. “I say we celebrate.”

“What did you have in mind?” Sophie asked. She was close enough to Eliot that when she shifted, she brushed against his side. It felt natural and, without thinking, he placed his hand against her waist.

Hardison shrugged. “Pizza in the backroom.”

“That's how we always celebrate.” She was smiling, probably because there'd been no take out celebration in the backroom for months.

“Sounds good,” Eliot told him.

“But no green peppers.” Parker scrunched up her face.

“No green peppers,” Hardison agreed.

“Or anchovies.” Sophie grimaced.

“Nobody likes anchovies.”

“I like anchovies.” Nate was smiling, too.

“You're a strange man,” Sophie said. She hadn't reacted to Eliot's hand, so he left it there. The others didn't seem to notice.

“Who's paying?” Hardison asked as they turned away and started towards the car.

“Your idea, you pay.” Eliot shifted and offered Sophie the arm of the hand that had been touching her. “Be careful. There's loose gravel, and it's a little rough.”

“Thanks.”

“How come I always have to pay?” Hardison protested. “I paid last time.”

“Man up.”

“I'll pay,” Parker offered. Eliot had a feeling the money would be coming from Nate's wallet. From the look Nate gave her, it was a good bet he knew it, too.

“Thank you, Parker.”

They continued to talk easily as they made their way across the parking lot. It was comfortable and familiar. Eliot kept glancing at Sophie. She looked content and happy. He fought against his own smile, and the smile won. 

Parker happened to look at him at that exact moment, and her eyes widened.

“What?” he growled.

“You're smiling.”

“Shut up, Parker.” He meant to snap the words, but there was no venom in them, so they sounded almost affectionate. He gave up on trying to turn his smile into a scowl. What the hell, he felt like smiling. He was allowed to smile occasionally.

“You're smiling?” Sophie asked softly, her voice tinged with warm amusement.

“It was a good con...and I got to punch Johnson a few times.”

“And, of course, that's the most important part.”

“Of course.” 

He helped Sophie into the front seat before crawling in the back with Parker and Hardison. The team drove back to headquarters in Nate's weighed down car, together for the first time in over three months.

XXX

When Sophie came into the great room the next morning, she was already dressed, and it wasn't even nine o'clock.  Eliot stared at her in surprise.  She'd dressed in a simple pair of jeans and a blue silk short sleeved shirt.  Her hair was already up in a ponytail, with shorter wisps of it playing around her face.  She was without her cane, but she moved with a sure grace born of familiarity and her own innate elegance and poise.  Eliot almost forgot to breathe as he watched her move.

“What are you doing?” she asked cheerily.

"Making breakfast," he said.  At least that's what he'd been about to do before she caught his attention.  "Any requests?"

"Pancakes.  Chocolate chip.  Powdered sugar instead of syrup;  I just got dressed."

"Why are you dressed so early?"

"You know why."  She settled at the table by touch.

"Are you eager, Soph?"  He started hauling out bowls and utensils.  

"It's not every day you let a woman drive your car."

The thought of it made his stomach clench, but he had promised.  He'd be there with her, and she'd told him she wouldn't go too fast.  The part of him that wasn't nervous was actually excited.  It was probably a reflection of Sophie's own excitement.  She didn't seem to be afraid.

"I've never let a woman drive my car."

She raised her eyebrows.  "Never?"

"Nope."

Sophie thought about this a minute.  "You really love that car, don't you?"

"She's a classic."  So was Sophie, he thought, pouring the batter into the pan.

"I want to participate in more cons," she said suddenly.

Surprised at the change in subject, he stopped and glanced at her.

"Nate might argue," she continued, "but the vulnerable blind woman is a great character.  She could distract the marks, get their guards down."

"It could work," he agreed, dropping one more pancake and setting the bowl aside.

"You're not going to tell me it's too dangerous?"

"Nope."

She shook her head.

"What?"

"You never cease to amaze me, Eliot."

"Why's that?"

She didn't answer, instead saying, "Those smell good."

"They are good."

"I never doubted it."

As the pancakes finished up, he grabbed dishes from the cupboards and orange juice he'd squeezed the day before from the fridge.  She was quiet as he set the table, and he kept his eyes on her, wondering what she was thinking.  Her face wasn't as closed now with him as it used to be, and he'd learned to read her better than he ever could before.  She seemed lighter, softer, now that she was starting to feel comfortable in her own skin again. When he flipped her pancakes into the plate in front of her, she tipped her face up to him and smiled sweetly.

"Eat up," he told her gruffly, feeling his skin flush.

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

He sprinkled them liberally with icing sugar and a bit of chocolate drizzle he'd made from melting some chocolate chips.  Sophie wasn't as crazy about chocolate--or as downright crazy, part of his mind added--as Parker, but he still knew she'd appreciate the extra chocolate even if she had to change her shirt.  Plus, he'd get to sit back and watch pleasure light up her face.

By the time Eliot got his own plate and sat across from her, she'd already started eating.  She took a bite and let out a blissful sigh.

"Good?"  he asked.

"You could sell these."

He assumed that meant yes.  "I only make them for you."

She laughed a little.  "I highly doubt that."

"Now.  I only make them for you now," he clarified honestly.

Her mouth was full so she didn't answer, and he watched her chew and swallow.  There was chocolate on her lip, and she must have felt it because her tongue darted out to lick it off.  Eliot clenched his teeth and forced his eyes to his plate.

After they were both done, Eliot took their plates to the dishwasher, and Sophie put away the juice. When he straightened and turned, she was just coming back from the fridge, passing him in the small space. 

She brushed up against him and said, "Oh, sorry.  I didn't realize you were so close."

She colored a bit, which Eliot liked, and he noticed she had a bit of powdered sugar on her cheek.

"Not a problem."  She paused, and their bodies were still touching.  On impulse, Eliot reached up to brush his fingers against her face.  He heard her breath catch, so he quietly said, "You have some sugar."

He continued to caress her, even after the sugar was gone.  His heart sped up, and he couldn't stop touching the softness of her skin.

Her expression softened, so he leaned forward and kissed her gently.  She tasted sweet and slightly minty.  Sophie made a soft sound, and her hand came up to rest on his hip.

Pulling away, Eliot asked, "Was that okay?"

"More than okay.  Kiss me again."

Obediently, he pressed his lips to hers, this time a little more firmly.  She opened her mouth, and he deepened the kiss, his hand cupping her jaw.  She sighed and leaned against him, sliding her arms around him to hug him close.

Despite not wanting to let her go, he ended the tender kiss and brushed his lips across her cheek. She was still holding him, so he returned her embrace and buried his face in her hair.

"What took you so long?"  she asked in his ear, her breath brushing across his skin.

"I didn't know if you were ready."

She pulled from him.  "Speaking of ready..."

"You are?"

A pure, unaffected smile spread over her face.  "Yes.  Let's do it."

"Okay."  He kissed her cheek.  "I'll go get my keys."

**Author's Note:**

> I have never known anyone who is blind, and I have no knowledge--except for what I've seen on TV and in the movies--about what it's like to be blind. I probably got some stuff wrong, but I did the best I could to make the story feel real. Some of the sources I used to help with that are:
> 
> honerat  
> http://www.mass.gov/eohhs/gov/departments/mcb/  
> http://www.wikihow.com/Interact-with-the-Blind  
> http://hubpages.com/health/Pet-Peeves-of-the-Blind-and-Visually-Impaired  
> http://www.braillebookstore.com/Talking-Clocks  
> http://braillebug.afb.org/braille_print.asp  
> https://nfb.org/images/nfb/publications/fr/fr5/issue1/f050113.html  
> https://sandysview1.wordpress.com/2015/05/28/how-do-people-who-are-blind-know-when-it-is-safe-to-cross-the-street/  
> http://www.wikihow.com/Write-in-Braille  
> http://evengrounds.com/blog/blind-people-identify-paper-currency


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